BOB HOLT REPORTING

At the Father-Daughter Dance

May 9, 1961

I had received my instructions in advance from my 13-year-old daughter, Debby.

“Please Daddy,” she said, “try to remember. Don’t ask me to dance, don’t talk loud, and don’t laugh loud. Try not to be conspicuous.”

Such was the nature of my briefing in advance of last Thursday’s father-daughter banquet at Anacapa Junior High School, Ventura. The affair was the first such to be held in the school in quite a few years, I understand. But I trust it won’t be the last.

Before it was over, I violated all of the instructions I had received. I did talk loud – shouted greetings to the other fathers I happened to know who were on the other side of the room. I did laugh loud – some of the comedy material presented by the very clever students in the entertainment program virtually compelled it.

And I did ask my daughter to dance. This as a kind of defensive gesture. At the very first number, so many father-daughter couples began to swirl out onto the dance floor that it became swiftly apparent that the conspicuous ones were going to be those who remained seated at the tables. Debby darted a glance at me, and I darted a glance at her. I think we got the idea at approximately the same time – that the most inconspicuous spot would be in the middle of the dance floor.

Getting out to the middle of the floor, where my lack of dancing ability would go unnoticed, was no small task. The floor was as crowded as a night club on New Year’s Eve. We finally made it, and started to dance. Debby’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. She had found out that I could dance a little. It seems to be a source of perpetual astonishment to children that their parent had managed some minor accomplishments before they (the children) had come into the world.

We ended up by dancing four numbers. All us dads, I noticed, applauded heartily after each dance ended, although the music was all via recordings. Perhaps we were expressing our astonishment at still being upright after so much exercise.

The poise with which the student leaders of today comport themselves always impresses me greatly. Fathers and daughters were greeted by Miss Judy Craig, and entertainment numbers were announced by Miss Jill Coryell. There was even some entertainment on the father-daughter theme. Kathy Rose sang some numbers, including one of her own composition, while her dad, Bob Rose, delivered an amusing monologue. There was even a song by a girl’s chorus, “There is Nothing Like a Dad,” to the South Pacific tune, “There is Nothing Like a Dame.” Any father who did not feel after that rendition that his tax money was well expended at Anacapa would have a flint heart indeed.

Like any guy who is taking his girl to the dance, we stopped for a Coke on the way home. We were accompanied by Dominic Inda and his daughter, Susan. Susan had been in charge of ticket sales for the function. Selling tickets had not been the most arduous task, she explained, as more daughters and fathers wanted to attend the function than the school cafeteria could accommodate.

Dominic and I seemed to be feeling quite young and gay, despite the weight of our years. We tried a joke or two – at which the girls giggled, rather more loudly, I thought, than the witticisms warranted. I drove Debby home and let her out, and put the car in the garage. Walking into the house, I noticed she is taller than her mother, and that she looked very pretty and grown up in her party dress. My de-briefing took place in the hallway.

“Daddy,” she said, “I think you could learn how to dance if you tried.”

Then she kissed me and said: “Don’t forget to get me up for the astronaut shot.” 

I didn’t forget.