Dancin’
in the Dark by Elizabeth Shores
I was born into a world of superstition, hard work and the rhythm of the seasons, the fluctuations of the
tide. A world that could blow
everything away from you with the fickleness of the wind or could breathe life
into your very veins on the whim of fate. I
was a fisherman’s daughter born, bred and raised in Gloucester Massachusetts.
This was a blue-collar town, a commercial fishing town, an island, with
the island mentality and a general distrust of anything that came over the
Andrew Pilot Bridge.
My father was a captain who made his living dependent on no one but
himself, God and the 6:20 weather report. Our
family lived with the mystery. We became comfortable with not asking too many
questions, with never saying goodbye, with dancing in the dark.
It was a life you had to dare to live or get swallowed up alive by fear.
This was place I thought I’d raise my own family, until life told me
otherwise. Doctors told me there
was an 85% chance I’d never have kids, but I hung on to that 15% like nobodies
business. These doctors were on the other side of the bridge, what did they
know? My fiancé at the time was something of a gambler, and he married me in
1981 knowing the odds. I figured I
was lucky enough with my husbands’ daughter from his first marriage, that that
was my destiny, to help him raise this baby.
Then three years later, all of a sudden, bam! I had one baby and nine
months later bam! I was pregnant again. Talk about your shots in the dark!
It was like one minute I was praying, “God let me have these kids” to
OH MY GOD! What am I going to do
with these kids?
It was the summer of 1985 and I was wondering about a lot of things. Things like, “Would I be a good parent to three kids?
Will it be a boy or a girl? Where
would I get another crib? Will the baby be healthy?
Where will we get the money to raise these kids?
And finally, the most important question of that summer:
“Where was I going to find a baby sitter for the biggest party of the
year; Friday night of Fiesta???
Of course I wasn’t going to drink hard or stay out late, but I did want
to go out and dance a little. I was
still only 28 years old. By some miracle I got the sitter and took to stepping
out.
The American Legion was packed and the first song that came barreling out
of the speakers the size of refrigerators was “Dancin in the Dark” by Bruce
Springsteen. The energy in the club
was electric; shoulder-to-shoulder swaying and moving with the heartbeat of that
song. And then it hit me like a
tidal wave; this baby was dancing in the dark, we as parents and parent to be
were dancing in the dark. We as a
community that made it’s living from the ocean faced just as mysterious a
journey and we as a people on the whole are just as much in the dark about so
many things that may never ever be answered.
All we can do is cultivate our own gardens, keep moving and enjoy the
good times while they last.
I caught the eye of a friend on the dance floor. We gave each other that knowing glance that only friends growing up in Gloucester can understand. We were mothers, we were healthy, and we were young. These things were for sure and as for the rest, well, we kept on dancing in the dark.