When we dance, our inner core shines through in a way we don’t normally see. Call it the James Cagney effect.  People who look pretty solid or even ungainly can suddenly take flight when they step onto a dance floor. At the Jewish Center swing dance last weekend, I felt like Jane Austen as men of all ages invited me and my friend Marian up to dance. Marian knows what she is doing, but I slid and wobbled like a knock-kneed Bambi (I love to dance, but this was my first foray into swing dance). My 60 and 70-something partners feet sprouted wings as they nimbly and delicately Lindy Hopped around the dance floor.  The older they were, the lighter they seemed. Victor twirled me, threw me up in the air and dropped me backwards like a swooning Ginger Rogers.  Next time I’ll have to remember to practice: ‘One, two, rock step. One, two, rock step…’