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      June 13, 2020DancingEd Galing

      it was a marathon,
      and we did it right off
      Broadway in New York, back
      when apples were sold on
      street corners by haggard
      looking men who never shaved
      anymore, standing on street
      corners, the lines were long
      back then, waitin for a free
      turkey from the salvation army
      for thanksgiving,
      people were
      flyin upside down from airplanes,
      and there was a guy called Shipwreck
      Kelley sittin on a flagpole, way
      up, for weeks, rain or shine,
      just to see how long he could
      stay up there, hopin to make a
      buck that way,
      my girl and I got into the
      dance marathon …
      picture a rickety hall, with
      fifty young people like us,
      dancing day and night, holdin on to
      each other till we dropped, hell,
      this went on day and night, and
      the winner would get a few hundred
      bucks, while the sister promoters
      made the most of it, and the
      loud music comin from a jukebox,
      day and night, around and around we
      went, and pathe news showed us on
      the screen, and walter winchell
      wrote us up, and nobody really
      gave a shit about any of this,
      seeing how everybody was crazy in
      them days anyway,
      on the fifth day of dancing
      most of the contestants had dropped
      out, the meat wagon took em away,
      imagin women hangin on to their
      boyfriends, around the neck, while
      the boyfriend dragged his partner
      around and around like a bunch of
      damn zombies.
      there was a fifteen minute break
      so we could do what we had to do,
      goin around the room, foxtrot,
      waltz, mostly, and we all had
      these big damn numbers on our
      backs,
      near the end, before my girl
      and I dropped out, my feet were
      swollen the size of an elephant’s,
      and my partner looked like she
      was gonna faint any minute,
      like she was gonna die right
      then and there, hell, i was draggin
      her around like a dust mop,
      at the end of this dance
      marathon the cops finally came
      around and closed the whole damn
      thing up … the mayor said it was
      inhuman for people to dance like
      this, just to see who could last
      longer,
      we got nuthin for our dancing
      and it wasn’t very pretty,
      we broke up after that,
      and I joined the navy, figurin
      let the government take care of
      me, and I would look good in a
      sailor suit,
      and last I heard, my partner
      was workin in a night club somewhere,
      tryin to make out as a singer
      and the place where we danced
      was sold at an auction and it’s bare
      and quiet now there, and the world
      keeps on goin around and around.
      and this is where I get off.

      from #32 - Winter 2009

      Ed Galing

      “I was 92 in June, and since my memory is still good I like to write about the ‘old days.’ Seems like they were the best. With the bad economy now, maybe there will soon be another ‘marathon’ dance!”