My Grandma is 90 years old. She says that it's hard to dance to "I saw her face" by the Beatles, who are being played by three 50 year old guys in standing in a back yard. One is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, he has short gray hair that is spiked. Another one is dressed in a black and silver bowling shirt his hair looks like Blossom's dad's. They play their instruments well. They do not sound like Paul Mcartney though, which they had jokingly said they were going to. My Aunt screams play some motown. They say "I don't think we should try that. Their specialty is the Beatles with a sprinkling of Chuck Berry and Richie Valens. 50's electric guitar centric. Their skill was not harmonizing or singing.

My Grandma and I awkwardly sway, the grass is uneven so I hold her steady. We dance like we are at an all white 80's prom the era where rhythm and grace sort of floundered. Finger snapping arm swaying synth pop, kind of moves. The whole family is up, a bunch of awkward adults trying to find a rhythm, moving to the riffs of the pretend beatles. They all have smiles, the sounds of the music lofts above the fences scattering into the neighborhood air. We join the family circle that forms when weird families dance, and I resist the urge to start b-boying and or getting my eagle on. Grandma seems to be slowing down, so I tell her we should sit and wait for a slow song. I guide her back to the table where she sits down and says "Oyshakoda." Which is the Japanese equivalent of "Upsadaisey."

Rounds of adults occupy the chairs, leaving and returning from the dance floor. The band plows through some Jan and Dean, some Chuck Berry. The sound of several conversations peppers the songs. They start on a slow song and I grab Grandma and lead her back out to the grass. I ask her if her and Grandpa used to go out dancing. She told me they had. I asked her what they danced to. My Grandma says, don't you have those cds Grandpa gave you. I did have them, after he passed, when we were cleaning out a storage space they had I took a large collections of his cds. The playlist on these things is crazy romantic. I never saw my Grandpa as romantic. The Grandpa I knew was always kind of gruff, like a grumpy bear. I liked the picture of them swaying to Louis Armstrong. I could see them dancing cheek to cheek in a smoke filled danceroom. I ask my Grandma who she liked to dance to. She says Perry Como. I ask her what about Frank? She says he is alright, but then throws Bing Crosby in the mix. I have to disagree and say Frank is better than Bing, but i know she thinks Perry is hot so I understand why he places higher. I ask her about Dean Martin who at points I like better than Frank and she just labels him ok as well. We go back to circling in silence. Small steps in the cool night time air, a large tree casting shadows on the ground. I look at the rest of my family and grin, we move closer to my Uncle who's birthday it is and join their circle. The pretend Beatles play us out.