Feis dad Irish dance suggestions

As all of you should know by now, I haven’t a clue. I’m a typical feis dad. It’s not that we don’t care, we do. It’s just that our brains can’t grasp all the finer details of Irish dance. Okay, truth be told, most of us even have problems with the big picture items.

Recently, I was talking with my family about which dances my daughter should be dancing at the next feis (well, they were talking, I was trying to listen and understand) and it amazed even me how much I didn’t know about something my daughters have been involved in for three years. Or has it been five? Maybe it’s only been a few months. Heck, I don’t know…

What do I know? I know there are two groups of dances. One is done with a soft shoe; the other is done with a shoe that makes all that darn racket. I believe these shoes are called the steel lined, concrete filled, noisy, loud, obnoxious shoes, or in short, the noisy, loud, obnoxious shoes. But that’s just a guess on my part.

Other than that, the names and distinctions between different kinds of dances somehow eludes me. The only dances I know the names of are St. Patty’s Day, a jig and a slip reel. Or are they called a reel and slip jig? Or was it a slip pig? Maybe a reelly slippery pig. Ha! Now that would be a fun dance to watch!

Oh, who knows. Clearly not me.

But as bad as that is, even if I knew the NAMES of the dances, I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. When I watch my daughters dance, no matter how hard I try, I still can’t tell the difference between a reel and a jig. But that shouldn’t surprise anyone. Men just aren’t that observant when it comes to those kinds of things.

For example, most men don’t notice when their wife gets her hair done. Not even if she gets 6 inches chopped off, a perm and is now blonde. My wife gets upset when she has to tell me these things. And to tell you the truth, I don’t really know if she’s pulling my leg or not. Did she really get a haircut? I can’t remember what her hair looked like twenty minutes ago, never mind yesterday. When she tells me it used to be long, straight and black, I just have to shrug and believe her.

It took a friend of mine FOUR DAYS to notice that his wife and kids had taken a vacation without him. And that’s only because my wife called me from Disneyland and I was still at home. I’d wondered why I’d been able to watch sports on TV without anyone complaining lately.

This same guy, however, spotted a typo in the second significant digit to a baseball player’s ERA within two seconds of it being displayed on ESPN’s Sports Center. Go figure.

What’s my point in all this you ask? Good question as I’ve already forgotten.

Ten minutes later and after asking wife for point of blog post...

Oh yeah, it’s about making the dances interesting to feis dads so we can remember them. If you want a feis dad to pay attention, the dances must be something he can relate to. Here are a few suggestions:

THE JACKIE CHAN JIG: This dance would be full of awesome karate, tae kwon do, jujitsu, ninja (and any other cool Japanese word) moves that really kick butt. Also, the dancers would have to perform while speaking cheesy dialogue which no one understands.

THE CLEAN YOUR ROOM SET: This dance mimics all the moves that are made when one cleans their room (which of course none of our daughters know). With time and lots of practice, they will learn moves like the Pick Up Your Dirty Clothes Kick, Take Out the Smelly Trash Cut, the Sweep the Messy Floor Jump and the Throw Out The Old Pizza Box Twirl. Although this dance is a parental favorite, teenagers loath it and you’ll be lucky to see them perform it once a year.

THE FISHING REEL: This dance involves sitting in an uncomfortable folding chair for hours on end while waiting for freakin’ anything to bite. Dancers will have to master the following positions: slouched in chair, sleeping in chair, scratching butt in chair, drinking beer in chair and finally folding up chair and going home empty handed. But it’s not all static poses. One lucky dancer will actually get to perform the “reel”. This is done by furiously acting like she’s reeling in the BIG ONE. After ten minutes of this she realizes it was just an old boot, spends ten minutes furiously swearing, ten minutes furiously packing everything back up in the truck and, finally, ten minutes furiously lying to all the guys down at the pub about the BIG ONE that got away.

Lastly, this is for adult Irish dancers only: THE POLE DANCE is anything that involves a pole, loud music and enough cigarette smoke to choke the state of New Jersey.

Yep, if a typical feis had these dances, we might just remember more about them. But, then again, maybe not, I can’t even seem to remember where I put my keys when I’m getting ready for work, or if I put my pants on. Either of which makes showing up to work a dicey situation.

Here’s a clue: I don't have a clue

Last weekend I drove my two dancing daughters to Albuquerque for a feis all by myself. Let me say that again for those who didn’t grasp the significance of the last sentence. ALL BY MYSELF. No feis mom along. Nada. Zip. Zero.

I believe this was a huge accomplishment in my life. Sort of like my first time wearing big boy pants and leaving the comfort of my diapers behind (which, truth be told, wasn’t that long ago). Yep, I did it all by myself.

That being said, I’m surprised nobody died.

Nevertheless, what amazed me most was that people were coming to me, asking questions about the feis. Me. Yeah, right. I haven’t a clue.

This is how I usually ride out a feis.



As you can see, even without feis mom here, I had a chance to “rest my eyes” for a few minutes while another feis mom helped my DD’s with their hair. I think it worked out for the best. For some reason, they weren’t keen on my idea of using duct tape to secure their slinky wigs of doom. Go figure.

Anyway, after I helped get them ready (by not helping) for the feis, we moved down to the ballroom and I immediately took up the following position:



Now, any sane person would look at me intently playing ATV Race on his daughter’s iPod Touch (I can’t afford my own since I just bought two new solo dresses) and think, “This guy doesn’t have a clue,” right? Then why in the heck would people bother to ask me questions?

One guy, possibly even more clueless than me, started asking me about taking pictures during the feis. If he’s reading this, I have to apologize. Up to this point in my life, I hadn’t won a single game in ATV Race and I was hot on the tail of the leader. So, I tried to answer his questions and still race at the same time, with about 95% of my concentration going toward the race. The conversation lasted about two minutes, with me mumbling some sort of answer while twisting convulsively to trying to speed around the ATV in front of me. The whole encounter didn’t turn out well and he went away unfulfilled. Again, sorry, but you should know better. I haven’t a clue.

But he wasn’t the only one. Other people (who evidently thought I had a clue) were asking me for directions, opinions on the judges and whether or not so-and-so danced better than another so-and-so. FYI. I can’t tell the difference between a slip jig, hornpipe and the macarena and to me a “good” dance is anytime someone doesn’t fall down. That’s about the limit of my expertise on the subject. Again, I haven’t a clue.

If this wasn’t crazy enough, a feis mom who I know well (and who should have known better) asked me, “How long do you think the awards will take?” I gave her an incredulous that said, “You’re asking me?” She quickly recovered from her significant lapse of judgment and decided she might do better by asking someone (or something) with more of a clue … like the pool boy or a chair.

Other than those pesky questions, I think the weekend went fairly well. My daughters made it to all their dances and they even placed in a few. Although I’m convinced their success was mainly due to my attention to detail, my dancing advice and my over abundance of energy, the next time I’ll let my wife do the honors. I might take the weekend and do something a little less stressing … like running a marathon or donating a kidney.