Wednesday, February 26, 2014


File this one under memoir-ish.

And, I’m not even sure what prompted this unprovoked memory—except that last night I was reading and randomly came across the word go-go . . . and then I remembered.

When I was young—but old enough that I should have known better—


So when I was young and naïve I had a dream of one day being a dancer. This dream was without foundation, experience, or even training. I think I just liked the idea of dancing. My father in his day had learned to swing and in college he and my mother attended dances, but dance as far as free expression or for the pure joy of movement was not encouraged in my family. Perhaps this is why I so longed to break out and dance.

It was also the 60s and on Laugh-In I loved to see Goldie Hawn groove in her white patent leather go-go boots and funky all-over pattern mini-dresses. I think she was also on the game show Hollywood Squares. So there was also a “look” or style I wished to emulate.

Either way, I’d come home from school and call the phone number in the back of the classifieds, the adverts calling for Girls!! Dancers!! Must Have Experience!! Good Looking is a Plus!! I think the club owners who answered could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn’t what they were looking for.

I’m not sure how long I took the dream seriously. My memory does not serve me on those details. Perhaps, though, for a week or two I pursued the venture by calling and leaving messages. I never got the go-go boots or became a dancer.

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