This January, I was thrilled to receive a scholarship to attend the Ralph Page Dance Legacy Weekend.  As I walked into the Memorial Union Building, clutching my fiddle case expectantly, I could not have known how much the upcoming weekend would fuel my enthusiasm for contra dancing and contra dance music.

The first night, I must admit, left me feeling a little bit out of my element.  Before the Ralph Page Weekend, most of my contra dancing experience had been in a laid-back dancing environment with many beginners, where the figures were simple and easy to remember—in other words, Dudley-Laufman style.  Here, the dancers were experienced, the pace was fast, and the callers used terminology that I had never heard before.  Although I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it now, I had never before known what a “courtesy turn,” a “hey,” or a “ladies’ grand chain” was.  (And I call myself a contra dance musician!)

At first I tried to stick to the sidelines and stay out of trouble, but within moments I was whirled into the fray.  As I fumbled and tripped and caused general havoc, I began to slowly figure out the meanings of certain phrases.  Despite my ineptitude, my contra-dance-veteran partners were patient and helpful, explaining calls and giving me tips.  Thankfully, my fiddling experience helped me out immensely—simply having a good sense of beat, and knowing where a phrase began and ended, allowed me to catch on quickly and kept me moving in time to the music.  By the end of the evening, I was breathless and confused—but I had begun to learn the basics.  I could balance and swing tolerably well, so that was a plus.

When I got home, I hastily dug up a few books on contra dance figures, some of which had been written by Ralph Page himself.  But, although these were invaluable resources, it simply wasn’t the same as being on the dance floor, learning from the pros. 

Well, I soon had another chance.  The next day was a flurry of workshops, jam sessions, and dancing, dancing, dancing.  Bright and early in the morning, I headed off to a workshop led by David Millstone about dance history, where I learned many new and fascinating things—from who Cecil Sharp and Benjamin Lovett were to what instigated the bloody “War of the Quadrilles” in New Orleans.  After watching the wonderful Ralph Sweet retrospective and getting totally lost in a complex and fast-paced square dance called by the man himself, I was thrilled when I finally got to take my fiddle out of its case and play a few tunes in the Crowfoot workshop “How to play for a contra dance.”  We were taught one of my new favorites—“Rolling in the Rye Grass”—and I picked up some great tips on contra dance music selection and technique.  Looking at some examples of “smooth” and “driving” tunes, we discussed important ways of reflecting the general character of the dance in the music.  The workshop gave me a new understanding of the idea that the music at a contra dance must be in harmony with the dance itself—you can’t just pick a tune out of a hat, expecting it to work.

Later on in the afternoon, I got onstage with several of my musician friends from the weekend, and we played some great old favorites of mine, including “A Hundred Pipers” and “The Little Burnt Potato,” for an informal contra dance consisting of about eight or nine couples.  Soon we were off to the Huddleston Hall Ballroom for the banquet, where I got to sit with some of my friends and to discuss the importance of being a dancer oneself in order to play for dances.

The grand dance that evening was one of the most exciting, hectic, and fun times of my weekend.  After the grand march, I danced a lot—which was becoming easier and more natural by now—and simply reveled Crowfoot’s fabulous music.  Wandering through the contra dance merchandise room to catch my breath, I met Rodney Miller, one of my fiddling role models—what a thrilling moment for me!  Leaving a little early so as not to miss anything the next morning, I took several flyers and pamphlets about New Hampshire dances.  I was hooked.

On Sunday, I danced in some fabulous historical New England dances, called by Beth Parkes, with Rodney and Elvie Miller and Bob McQuillen providing the music.  Some of the calls were as amusing as they were confounding—such as “Swing with whomever you please!” or “All the Republicans down the aisle and back!”  My favorite would have to be the square dance with nine people in each square, in which the “ninepin” did his or her best to jump back into the dance wherever possible.  What a great recipe for hilarity and general confusion!  Then followed the “Favorite Tune” workshop, led by the Millers and Bob McQuillen—a laid-back jam-session where I played many tunes I knew as well as a few I didn’t.  (Thank goodness for the New England Fiddler’s Repertoire book, and for the ability to learn by ear!)  My brother, Dan, joined me there, playing the guitar and, upon prodding, suggesting that we play “Cold Frosty Morning,” an apt tune for that particular morning.

After a great lunch with Peter Yarensky and Teresa Wyman, I played some fabulous tunes at the Après Lunch Fiddle Jam, with Rodney Miller, Bob McQuillen, and the Orzechowski kids, whom I have known for a while through the Concord Community Music School.  We played “Swinging on a Gate,” “Fischer’s Hornpipe,” and “Bus Stop Reel,” a new one to me.

The highlight of the day, however, had to be the Farewell Dance Party on Sunday afternoon.  I danced for an hour; it was becoming harder to tell which was more fun—dancing, or playing for a dance.  Soon I was up onstage, though, unable to miss out on an opportunity to play with such talented musicians in such a festive atmosphere.  Ralph Sweet called a couple of dances that had us peering at sheet music to try and decipher the unusual tunes, but then we played a rousing “Star of Munster” and yet another tune that was to become a favorite, despite its unusual title—“Nail that Catfish to a Tree.”  Finally, Nils Fredland sent us off with an inspiring song that looked back on the Ralph Page Weekend with nostalgia. 

As I drove home that day, chattering to my family members about every minute detail of my weekend, I knew that it had been a turning point for me, and that the months ahead would be filled with still more contra dance activities.  I took many things away with me from the Ralph Page weekend—new tunes, new dancing experience, new contra dance knowledge, and new memories—but the most important thing I left with was the friendship and camaraderie that had characterized the weekend.  I will never forget my experiences there, and I will always be grateful to the people who made it possible for me to be there.  Many thanks to the Ralph Page Memorial Committee for their generosity and kindness.  It was a privilege for me to attend such an amazing, fun-filled weekend of dancing, music, laughter, and friendship.