I’ve heard a lot of French these past few days. Unfortunately, I only took one semester of it in high school, and merci is the only word I remember. When it came to choosing a foreign language for the required high school credit, I chose Spanish instead. It seemed more practical. After all, France was on the other side of the world. Plus, I loved the Spanish teacher.
Now, if I had grown up in a place like Louisiana, rather than Colorado, I might have been more inclined to take Intro to French. There are plenty of other things I probably would’ve done differently. I definitely would not have been on the ski team. And maybe, just maybe, I would have learned to play Cajun accordion instead of the flute. Who knows? When I was young, my options were limited by what was available in my immediate world. But once I stretched my wings, I discovered that the world is much bigger than I imagined—filled with wonders, including fascinating people, incredible food, and new experiences around every bend.
The best part? I’ll never run out of new sights to see, songs to hear, flavors to taste, and amazing people to meet.
In the past few days alone, I took a boat ride through the swamp and saw my first baby alligators. I learned that the Tabasco pepper is grown, harvested, and bottled on a fertile strip of land on Avery Island. And I met up with our Cajun family and friends in Lafayette.
Louisiana is rich with culture—the kind you can’t learn from a book. You have to experience it. Taste it. Smell it. See it. Touch it. And most importantly, feel it.
What captured my attention most at the Festivals Acadiens et Créoles were the dancers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people dancing at once, and I couldn’t take my eyes off them.
There was no waiting for the right song—every song was the right song. It didn’t matter what shoes you had on, either. People danced in cowboy boots, sandals, heels, and even flip flops. It wasn’t that they danced—it was how they danced. There was something extraordinary about the way they moved with the music.
It’s no secret I love to dance. But I’m more of a freestyle dancer—I just let my limbs do their own thing. It works for me, and it’s a whole lot of fun. But at the festival, I witnessed something different. Even the people walking by, carrying chairs and backpacks, didn’t just walk—they grooved to the beat, with a little bounce in each step. Once they found a place to set down their things, they started dancing, right where they were.
No two people moved the same. Even couples had their own style, refined over time. The whole crowd seemed to move in synchronicity, as if the beat rose up from the ground and joined them together. In music lingo, they were all “in the pocket.”
I watched and listened, mesmerized by the ease and flow of the dancers. When the band played a waltz in 3/4 time, I watched everyone seamlessly adjust, adding a gentle pause to their steps.
Though I am comfortable playing a waltz from the stage, bass guitar in hand, dancing one with my feet is another story. So when an older gentleman reached for my hand, I found myself in unknown territory. He must have seen that “deer-in-the-headlights” look before because he gently guided me, whispering, “One-two-three, one-two-three.” Once I had that down, he smiled and asked, “Are you ready to travel?” Then off we went—circling the floor, weaving in and out of the other couples as I “traveled” backward, hoping for a collision-free trip. When the song ended, he said, “You did well—light on your feet.”
That’s the secret! I wrote those very words in my waltz, I Could Dance With You Forever (Helen’s Waltz):
“Light on your feet barely touching the ground, we go round and round and round.”
The music carries you—like stepping onto an escalator, or maybe a carousel, spinning endlessly in time.
Before long, another partner took my hand. As we danced, he translated the lyrics of a traditional Cajun song into English for me. I realized then that I didn’t need to understand the words to know the feeling. The music had already done the talking—lifting me off the ground, light on my feet, round and round and round.
Listen to the song and lyric video I Could Dance With You Forever on YouTube
Sounds like so much fun! I'm really glad you shared your experience with us. Your writing brought the dancing to life.