HULA HOOPIN

My sister-in-law requested a Hula-Hoop for her 70th birthday. The ubiquitous apparatus was nearly as easy to find today as it was fifty years ago. The one my daughter bought at Target was familiar in weight, texture and size albeit the three flashing lights inserted evenly around the circumference to those I remember from more than a half century ago.

I am pretty sure that achieving Hula-Hoop mastery didn't require much effort from us kids; you merely gyrated your hips from side to side or performed a rhythmic front and back movement that kept the thing spinning endlessly around your middle. The first sign of slippage would be corrected with a quick hip move sending the hoop flying back up. It didn't take long to learn the moves that kept the thing in a confident, sustained twirl. I could eat a peanutbutter and jelly sandwich watching TV while hula hooping and not break a sweat or think it was an accomplishment. I'm sure I was an average kid Hula-Hooper.

Before driving to Boston that weekend to celebrate Carolyn's birthday I couldn't resist giving it a try. It was a complete flop. My attempts to reenact the ancient gyrations left the hoop sliding down my legs within seconds. I desperately resorted to a You Tube teaching video to see if I was forgetting something, but it only made me more frustrated. My beleaguered effort to revive the skill was in vain and worse; using the tried and true-last ditch front and back move, (the kind the less coordinated kids used), proved fruitless and seemed somewhat lewd in a way that never occurred to me as a kid.

I'll be interested to see how Carolyn copes with the laws of physics in aging bodies. Perhaps she will smile and instantly evoke the ancient dance and that will really bum me out. I have little doubt that I could Hula-Hoop again if I was willing to put in a lot of time and sweat but it saddens me to know that the purposelessness of Hula Hooping that was so sweet to me would need to be replaced with a rigorous regime that uses weight loss and cardio benefit as incentives. It would always now be work. Perhaps Thomas Wolfe is right; You Can't Go Home Again.


Addendum:.
In time, I acquired my own Hula Hoop and eventually was able to keep it afloat for about ten seconds. It took concentration, work and sweat, but it was enough to convince me that I had conquered the Ring. It's funny how we can convince ourselves of anything. Carolyn never did get it going, but prudently keeps it leaning against a wall for visits with her nephew Finn. The torch has been handed to a worthier body then ours.

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