Last Dance of Summer

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Last Dance of Summer

But I like to know that someone is stronger than I am. I want to be able to know that if I get tired, somebody is there to hold up the fort. I like knowing that I can’t pick a refrigerator alone. God did not make me strong enough to do that. Donna Summer

When I was reading the other day that Donna Summer had passed I was touched with a deep feeling of nostalgia and sadness. Nostalgia because my memories of Donna Summer are touched by some of my happiest childhood memories. I think it was around 1981 or 1982. We had moved to this great new house in the upper end of town and my mother had become best friends with Gloria, the woman who lived across the street from us. She had several children, including a girl my age named Lori. My mom and Gloria had a ritual of going out on a Friday or Saturday night every weekend. I would always end up over at Lori’s house. We would do what all little girls do, dream. We would take out her mom’s Donna Summer records and dream of the day when we would be old enough to actually go to a disco. Her mother had this great collection of disco clothes. The tight spandex type of pants that were oh so shiny. She had the spangled tops and some very cool disco dresses. We would raid her closet and change into disco outfits and put Donna Summer on and dance the night away, just singing and dancing until we dropped and then we would dream dreams of being Donna Summer. I remember thinking to myself back then that I thought that she was one of the most beautiful black women I had ever seen, in fact one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. It was with a deep sadness that I read that she had passed because another chapter of my childhood had closed. Peace be with you Donna, wherever you are, and thank you for some of the best memories of my childhood.

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