When most foreigners think of the Caribbean they think of the natives being merry and dancing to the exotic sounds of steel drums playing calypso music. As Granny would say, "Jamaicans are jolly people and they love to have a good time."

This is quite true, Jamaicans can certainly appreciate a splendid time. An evening with close friends, fine Jamaican cuisine and some reggae or calypso music, mek everyting irie!

As usual, Granny and I loved to reminisce about her days growing up as a young girl. She always had a captive audience in me, so I would sit and listen for hours as Granny recalled every detail of her time at Uncle Whittaker's Dance Studio.

Uncle Whittaker was a man of fine taste and always dressed very dapper. He was like an Englishman who had just disembarked the Titanic. He was fit as a fiddle, and always eager to start a new endeavor. Because he was well traveled, he decided it would be an exciting adventure to start a dancing school in Jamaica. After he had successfully opened "The Whittaker School of Dance", he then enlisted the help of my Granny. He wanted her to be a Dance Instructor.

Granny had many talents, she could swim like fish, cook like a chef, sew like a seamstress, and let's not forget, preach like a Preacher. Therefore it was not surprising that she could dance like a ballerina. Granny's parents made sure that their girls were "well rounded" women by providing them the exposure to all sorts of activities. Eventually, it was up to them to pursue these hobbies and take them to the next level.

Therefore, when Uncle Whittaker asked Granny to come on board as an Instructor, she lunged at the opportunity to utilize her dancing skills.

At that time in Jamaica, Uncle Whittaker's Dance Studio, was the only one of its kind on the island. He taught the classic waltz, the rumba, tango and the most well known dance, the cha-cha-cha. Granny knew all the dances including the fox trot, so she found herself accumulating a nice sized clientele.

Granny would tell me stories about dancing for hours on end with her students until her feet felt like two cement blocks. The more versed the students became in dance moves, the eager they were to continue dancing. Poor Granny would often times keep dancing with them, to encourage their efforts, but she was so exhausted from their enthusiasm. She had to use all her energies from preventing herself from collapsing.

Granny always told me that being a Dance Instructor was tedious work. She found it to be fun, but after a few hours, it was simply exhausting.

Granny had a special client by the name of Mrs. Molly Penny. Her and her husband were ardent students of the Dance. Granny would tell me tales of how Mrs. Molly Penny would chat her ears off about her husband, and how she wanted to take dance to get away from him.

Granny found Ms. Molly's stories quite amusing , since the husband just followed her to dance anyway. The funny thing about the whole story was, Mrs. Molly Penny was a very large woman and Granny was petite, so it required great skill to show her intricate dance moves without having her toes squished at every turn.

The husband was quite a head case, he was always paranoid that his wife had feelings for Uncle Whittaker and Granny would always say that he was a bit dense in learning his dance moves, especially because he was so obsessed with his wife's activities.

Sometimes she would spend a whole afternoon showing him a simple waltz. The man just could not concentrate on anything other than his beloved Molly.

Granny would say, "What's so hard about, one, two, three, close-up, and then twirl?"

"One day, the man mash my foot so hard, then him fling me on towards the buffet table, all the bully-beef sandwich fly straight cross the dance floor."

Granny continued, "Mr. Penny was so pre-occupied with his wife, that his head was tougher than a coconut and his body was stiffer than starch. He could not relax or retain the dance moves."

Many nights after dance practice, Granny and Uncle Whittaker would laugh about the "Molly Penny" stories because until Granny had informed him of the situation, he hadn't a clue who Mrs. Molly Penny was, much more for them to have something going.

Uncle Whittaker thought her husband was one fruit loop away from Bellevue.

There was also another client of Granny's, Mrs. Pritchard, a former Ballerina from the Royal Academy of Dance. She took rumba lessons with Uncle Whittaker twice per week and the fox-trot with Granny once per week. She was always bringing Granny these remedies that she had concocted for aching feet. One day, she brought Granny some liniment, and since Granny's legs had been ailing her terribly, she was desperate for immediate relief. So she tried the ointment Mrs. Pritchard brought. Granny's feet became swollen like a jack fruit from the ointment.

Granny said, "Lord have mercy my two feet were swollen, I had to teach sitting down for several days. Mrs. Pritchard was so apologetic that she brought kerosene water everyday to sop my feet, you know, to reduce the swelling."

As Granny recounted several miniature tales of various characters she had met along her dancing way. She realized something. She would say to me:

"Mags, there are some really good people in this world and they mean well. But sweetheart always remember that the road to hell was paved with good intentions."

At eight years old I had a vague idea what Granny's phrase meant. However, since I have become an adult and have encountered my own experiences. I can say with confidence that there was some credence to Granny's thoughts.

There are good people who wish you well, and there are people who would genuinely move heaven and earth to help you, but sometimes no matter how well meaning their intentions are, the lines get crossed. Creating mayhem and confusion. Dancing taught Granny that valuable lesson and she passed it on to me.

As a child, I always wondered where my Granny got her great pair of legs from. The mystery was solved after she told me her tales of Uncle Whittaker's Dance School. Even in her old age when everything else began to fail, my Granny's legs remained as athletic as a young girl's.

I guess that's what dancing can do for you........

So, every time I hear that song, "She's got legs.......," I think of Granny dancing with herself into oblivion. She certainly had a great pair of gams and she knew how to use them.