Polka Fest

I had a friend come in from out of town and took her to the polka festival because it looked like something to do that would be memorable.

It was.

I still cannot get over how much it sounded like a lot of tunes people sing on shabbos betweeen the gefilta fish and chicken soup. I felt that being there made some sort of sense--I am, after all, half polish Jewish, but I understand that this Polka thing is unmistakably goyish. Still, a fun time was had by all. I learned how to dance a bit of polka: OOm Pah Pah, OOm Pah Pah. Its totally easy but I am so out of shape that I did feel a bit like a galoopmphing rhinocerous.

We had no idea what to expect. We had only one rule: If you hear that four letter knickname for jew (the one that begins with the letter 'K' it was time to hightail out of there). We needn't have worried. Mostly a lot of old folks, probably bussed in from some nursing home, and then there were the diehard folk dancing fiends--U of M hippy types.

Acctually, the more I think about the whole experience, the more lame it gets; but in a way, thats the definition of good clean fun, which it was.

gnight.