Waiting for Go-go

One day deep in the 1960s my best friend and neighbor Barbara and I were given matching go-go boots. Not exactly matching: one pair was white, the other black. Tall, shiny and practically inexplicable we wore them side by side walking up the steep street of McGraw to our elementary school.

My mother was the boot giver. She was always buying me crazy clothes such as that white denim jacket and jeans outfit printed with colorful paint ‘splatters’ that would have made me invisible against a Sam Francis painting.

Barbara took the white boots and I the black. We wore mini-dresses and danced next to her parent’s stereo that was the size of a coffin. We didn’t get our boots until a few years after we stood at the door watching Barbara’s sister Margaret head out with friends to see The Beatles at their 1966 performance in Seattle.

But the spirit was there.

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