A hundred and fifty years ago I wasn’t even a twinkle in my great-great-great grandpa’s eye yet I’ve spun across the dancefloor with the Union and Confederate clad as colliding petticoats have added their swirls to the drones of the dulcimer.

Recently, Old Glory Vintage Dancers put on a ball commemorating the 150^th anniversary of the end of the Civil War. Jason and I attended attired in hoopskirts and waistcoats. Visiting the past sometimes simply requires a closet not a callbox.

Time gracefully reversed at this event with live period music, parlor games, and a presidential visitor. And what would a ball be without dancing? (That was a rhetorical question.) We romped some of my era favorites that evening like Oslo Waltz and Soldier’s Joy.

On that note, hoopskirts are both super annoying and super fun to dance in. It’s a paradox that cannot be explained by even the most astute logic…sorry Spock. Corsets, on the other hand, not only defy explanation but patience, especially when laced ineptly. Unable to fasten my own corset for this affair, I enlisted Jason’s help. Despite his best efforts, he somehow managed to make that inglorious contraption way too loose at the top and bottom yet so tight in the middle that my ribs were bruised by the end of the evening. Now and then it would be convenient if Jason were a lady.

A century and a half ago our country rejoiced in its reclaimed indivisibility. Jason and I lately remembered that historic elation with energetic steps and uncomfortable undergarments. Long live patriotism and pantaloons!