My 94-year-old Nana told me a story a few years ago about a man who would drive her group of friends to dances when she was just out of High School. This was back in 1934 when not many people had cars. Apparently this fellow would take them to Boston, Cambridge, Lynnfield and other places around the area for social nights. He would never go in to the dances, and would just wait for them to come out and then drive them each home. The story really stuck with me and I started writing a short story about the imagined man. I had a moment to ask my Nana about it again yesterday, so I recorded the the conversation. Eventually I will write a short story about this homely man who I imagine dancing alone in his living room to the Victrola dreaming of actually being at the dance. Here's my Nana talking about it.