A date with Dad: Girl Scouts' father-daughter dance is a Springfield tradition

BY EILEEN BRADY
THE STATE JOURNAL-REGISTER

Not exactly dressed for a sprint, Steve Farris and two of his daughters escape the cold evening air by dashing across the parking lot, hand in hand, toward the Illinois Department of Transportation building. 

Nine-year-old Elizabeth Farris knows what to expect on the other side of the glass doors, but her younger sister, 6-year-old Victoria, has only heard secondhand. 

Inside, a disc jockey’s bass thumps as the girls get their corsages and pose for Polaroids, prom-style. Victoria stays close to her father, taking it all in. 

​“Let’s go dance,” he says, and they enter

the darkened cafeteria. A “party train” snakes around the room, indicating that “A Date with an Angel” is in full swing. The annual father-daughter dance held on March 24 for Girl Scouts in southwest Springfield is the event of the year for many girls — and for plenty of their dads. 

Most fathers are wearing jackets and ties, although some have been known to wear tuxedos. The girls’ dresses vary drastically, from red plaid or flowered dresses to sheer spaghetti-strap, miniature diva outfits. Their hair might be curled in little-girl ringlets or sexily swept up at the salon. 
More than 550 dads and daughters are attending. Some dance together all night, while a few won’t see much of their dates once they step inside the party. 

Steve Farris lays down his own fatherly rule: The night is for the three of them to spend time together. He doesn’t have to worry; Victoria and Elizabeth, students at Blessed Sacrament, are as happy to spend the evening with their dad as he is to spend it with them. 

Some fathers, though, are abandoned at the tables as soon as their daughters spot their friends. Those girls run in packs, socializing as if it were their job. They check out the sodas and snacks at the dessert table, they head to the bathroom together, they ditch their shoes and slide across the floor in their tights and they discover the joys of escalator riding (until that sport is banned). They don’t sit down for a minute. 

All of that is secondary, though, to the rug-cutting that takes over the middle of the room. The dance floor stays crowded all night, as many girls take full advantage of their dates’ attentiveness, keeping them dancing to ’N Sync’s “God Must Have Spent A Little More Time With You” and Jimmy Buffett’s live version of “Brown-Eyed Girl.” 

Victoria and Elizabeth share their dance partner, as he does his best to embarrass them (without much success). They long ago have shed their sweaters and have taken just a few breaks. Steve teaches his girls and all of the others who’ve gathered around how to do the Travolta finger-point move during “Stayin’ Alive.” 

Most other fathers also are determined to make the most of the evening. 

“The best thing, I think, about it is that it gives the dads a whole evening with their daughters,” says Lisa Lundquist, director of membership services for Girl Scouts. Volunteer troop leaders have been organizing the event for more than 10 years. They keep the cost low ($5 admission includes refreshments) and offer financial assistance for some families. The $2.50 corsages and photos are used as troop fund-raisers. Other Girl Scouts across the country have similar dances. Around Springfield, though, this particular dance is quite fancy, Lundquist says. 

And although it’s traditionally known as the father-daughter dance, the girls are free to attend with any responsible male adult. Grandfathers and uncles and older brothers sometimes step in. Dads who are long-distance truck drivers make sure they’re in town. 

Although the dance itself is the reason the IDOT cafeteria is filled with girls half the height of their dates, the three-hour event isn’t necessarily the only time spent together. The day starts early for many girls, as they get ready with Mom or head for the salon to have their hair done. 

Victoria Farris starts getting ready for her first father-daughter dance around 4 that afternoon, while her dad keeps an eye on Isabella, her 9-month-old sister. 

Soon, older sister Elizabeth comes home from a birthday party with her mother, Blanca, and her 4-year-old brother, Nicolas. 

The girls have velvet dresses to wear, sent by Elizabeth’s godmother: Elizabeth’s is green and Victoria’s is purple. They bought matching sweaters to wear on the chilly spring evening. 

Elizabeth stands on a stepstool facing the bathroom mirror as her mother stands behind her, curling the hair in Elizabeth’s ponytail. Isabella is in her walker, watching. 

“I tried to get all the knots out,” Elizabeth says. 

“You have good, healthy hair,” Blanca tells her. 

“But isn’t it dead cells, though?” Elizabeth says, and the two laugh at the paradox. 

Victoria is up next. She just needs to have her hair dried. 

Elizabeth tests the waters, trying for makeup. 

“Can I wear a little bit of your lipstick?” she nonchalantly asks her mother. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Shoot,” Elizabeth says. 

“But Victoria has that purple lip gloss,” Blanca allows. 

When Victoria’s hair is dry, Blanca tells her, “Victoria, your hair looks beautiful.” At that, Elizabeth runs to the bathroom to admire her sister. “Can I see her?” 

Nicolas and Blanca have plans for the evening, too. They’re going to watch Nicolas’ favorite fire-truck movie and eat popcorn while the two girls are with their dad. 

“Pop, can I come?” he asks. 

“Nope,” says Steve. “You’re not a daughter.” 

After the girls put on their special jewelry, they load up in the back seat of the minivan, off to their 6 p.m. reservation at Cafe Brio. 

Steve Farris has been looking forward to the father-daughter dance. Last year, he and Elizabeth hardly left the dance floor. Some of the other girls still remember seeing Elizabeth’s dad taking a break outside, steam rising from his head. This year, he will make sure Victoria, who’s a little shyer than her sister, stays moving, too. 

Steve and Blanca met when they were both working at a Houston hotel, she at the front desk and he as a chef. 

“The food service industry and family are at the opposite ends of the continuum,” Steve says, so he went back to school to get his bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Now he works in procurement for the Illinois Department of Public Aid, and Blanca stays at home with the children. They take their roles as parents seriously, although they’re liberal with humor. 

In the van, Steve asks what the girls think the musical selection will be at the dance: “Do they have the Baha Men? ‘Who Let the Dogs Out?’ ” 

“Yeah, probably,” Elizabeth answers. 

“Then my night will be complete,” Steve says. 

He pops in a Britney Spears CD, and both girls sing along to every word. They don’t have cable and have never seen MTV, but the girls know their preteen culture. 

At Cafe Brio, seven other fathers are having pre-dance dinner with their daughters. The news of Maryland upsetting top-seeded Stanford in the men’s NCAA tournament makes its way to each dad. 

Victoria picks at her chicken tacos. 

“Victoria, you need to eat,” Steve says. 

“I don’t like the chicken. It tastes like fish,” she says. 

“Well, we should’ve gotten you frog because it tastes like chicken,” Steve says. 

Elizabeth shares her quesadilla with her sister. They’re more eager to be at the dance than eat. 

The dance is everything the girls had hoped. Elizabeth’s energy never wanes, but Victoria hurts her leg and doesn’t feel much like dancing by 9 p.m. They compromise and leave around 9:30, a half-hour before the dance ends. 

On the way home, they list their favorite parts about their date with Dad. 

“I liked everything,” Victoria says. “It was fun. Except for the chicken tacos.” 

“I liked the slow dances,” Elizabeth says, later elaborating. “Because I like dancing with my dad. I’ve danced with him since I was 2 years old and I stood on his feet. Even before then, didn’t I, Pop?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “That’s why my feet are flat.” 

Giggles float from the back of the van. 

They’re in their pajamas by 10, curled up on the couch with their dad, telling their mom all about the dance. 

They get under the covers in the bunk bed. Steve kisses each one; then they say their prayers together. 

Steve reaches to shut out the light. 

​“My dates were the prettiest ones there and the best behaved,” he tells his daughters. “Thank you for a beautiful evening.”