What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it's all about?
I asked myself that question last night while leading my preschool choir in a rousing rendition of that timeless classic. The version I found has a cajun feel to it, which beats the dippy 50s happy-dappy version I grew up grooving to at the local roller skating palace (the unfortunate-yet-innocently named Gay Blades Roller Rink.) Because actually, the Hokey Pokey is best done on roller skates. Not roller blades. Skates. With four on the floor -- literally.
My choir urchins liked the Hokey Pokey -- they dig anything that gets them up and moving to a beat, with the opportunity to act silly. Or to have me act silly -- which, many times, is even better. We put our left arm and our right leg and our nose in. And shook them all about. Turned ourselves around. And staccato clapped at the end of the verse.
"That's what it's all about."
And as I shook my backside and put my whole self in amdist the giggles and energy of my kiddos, I watched the looks on their faces.
Maybe I need to turn myself around more often. Put different parts of me in and shake 'em all about. See what falls out (not off, I hope. I'm old but not that old...)
Perhaps that really, truly is what it's all about.