Back in 1968, everything was grooving and dances were bopping. Every time a new move was introduced to the Neighborhood of Simon’s Rock, (a secret group that hung around in the woods), the dance spread like wildfire. One dudette would start twisting her leg and BOOM, the Mashed Potato would be born. Dancing was infectious to them; morning was the only cure. All twenty-five of those decked-out hippies would gather every night just to dance for 10 hours straight, only releasing hands when they saw the sun above the trees.
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October 2020
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