We went dancing Saturday night.

We do it all the time, or at least every year when the Girls Inc. Father Daughter Dance rolls around.

Hannah, my older daughter, invited me again, despite knowing my dancing skills hadn’t improved any over the past year, or since she first started taking me four years ago now.

Sorry, but I can’t dance.

Nevertheless, we always have a good time.

We enjoy watching the other kids dance, especially the little ones. Hannah likes to guess who’s going to win the dance contest for each grade.

She also always enjoys dancing with the other kids.

I always enjoy watching Hannah have a good time.

And we always have a good time dancing together, with Hannah laughing with me as I make a mess of the art of dancing.

The first time we went, about all I could do was spin her around and around and around. And around some more.

But this year brought a surprise. OK, it brought a shock.

After we danced our dance and we were walking off the floor, they announced the winning couple for that round.

“Hannah and Dan Davis,” the woman said.

“Another Hannah and Dan Davis,” I thought. “Who’d have known.”

As Hannah dragged me up front, another thought entered my mind: “Gee, no offense, but how bad were the other dads?”

But we did have a good time during our dance. We had kept moving, even me. We had laughed as I spun Hannah around, although she stopped me this yeaer before I again turned her into a twirling dervish ala our first Father Daughter Dance in 2005. And she had laughed with me as I tried to keep my hulking bulk moving with her petite frame.

Maybe having fun counted a lot with the judges.

If you’re a dad and you’ve never taken your girl to the Father Daughter Dance, you should pencil that into your dance card for next year. You’ll have a great time.

We always do.

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My blog last week about “A Christmas Story” and the mention of the leg lamp drew a number of phone calls, e-mails and three online responses.

Steve Langlais of Sixth Street in Seymour posted a repsonse of mock shock that his leg lamp wasn’t the only one in town.

He asked for others to respond with locations of where there might be others.

I know of two others. Scott Davis (no relation) has one in the second-floor window of his home on North Walnut Street and another Louise Court, both in Seymour.

Our TribTown poll on favorite Christmas movies has drawn a number of responses, more than 370 as of this evening. “A Christmas Story” and “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation” have been strong leaders in the voting, each holding steady in the 23 to 25 percent range

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I drove to Indianapolis the other day for the funeral of a childhood friend’s father.

Several things went through my mind on the trip to Garfield Christian Church in my old neighborhood and the drive home later that afternoon.

It seems as though I’ve been spending much more time in funeral homes in recent months, perhaps a sign that I’m getting older just as the parents of many of my friends are getting older still.

After hearing stories about how some of my friends have watched their mothers and fathers suffer, some for many months if not years, I think I’m finding some appreciation for the quick way in which first Pop and later Mom died. Quickly and with no long-term illness.

A little appreciation, but not much.

I still miss them.

I can’t imagine anyone enjoying going to funeral homes, although I had an aunt and a couple of distant cousins of Pop who seemed to be rather professional at it.

While much of my discomfort comes from missing my parents and being reminded of that every time I go inside a funeral home, I do think it serves a purpose for those mourning their loved ones, as long as I can keep my emotions about my own losses in check.

I hardly think mourners need me blubbering at them.

Something I’m unsure of is how to deal with those family members I don’t know. Do they really care to hear from me or have someone explain to them who I am? I often doubt that and generally try to visit with the person I know.

But sometimes that can be awkward, too, and what if the sibling you step around doesn’t know anyone there and they get stepped around by nearly everyone? Maybe I just think too much on a long drive home.

What do you do in those cases? I’d like to hear.

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