This is the only photo I have of me wearing the white boots lauded in this poem. Too bad the tassels aren’t showing! That’s my dad being silly and sporting as a hat a centerpiece brought back from Mexico by our neighbors.
White Boots with Tassels
Hand over hand, hand over hand—
we were a little twirling band—
Sharon, Diane and Meridee,
Jerilyn, Sheila and me.
We felt that we were in cahoots
as we donned our tall white boots
that sported tassels hanging down,
strutting them all over town,
dropping batons we soon retrieved
and we all truly believed
one day we’d be good enough
so we would come to strut our stuff
before the band, wands held on high
then thrown aloft into the sky.
Those dreams, alas, soon became dated
when our high school mentor graduated,
going on to college where
her baton rose to higher air
while ours were relegated to
shelves that sported a single shoe,
old castoff dolls and castoff dreams,
Teddy bears ripped at the seams
and small batons barely abused
because they were so rarely used.
Yet in our dreams, we strutted tall,
the finest majorettes of all—
batons twirling as they rose high
above us far into the sky,
returning safely to each hand
in sync with music from the band
we marched in front of, pert and sassy,
our tasseled boots sexy and classy.
Big girls now grown up from small,
the coolest high schoolers of all.
The truth of this, alas, it seemed,
to be something we merely dreamed.
The prompt word today was strut.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
this is so touching, wonderful words, healthy!!
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Thanks, Mihrank. I always love seeing your comments. Always supportive and clever.
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You strut your words in time
I look hard, the boots could be mine.
That Dad in a hat, well fancy that
A a joke on his tongue now doubt
Especially when the cameras about.
Great fun,
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Ha! Thanks, Ellen. Were you actually able to strut yours to the admiration of the masses?? Love the line, “You strut your words in time.” Wonderful.
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Like most,.when I had the opportunity, the confidence was absent
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Enlarge and look more closely; you can see the tassel on the right boot! Love the photo and the poem.
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Thanks for rendering it into my care.
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First – what a fantastic photo – so much to see and remind me of my childhood – the fireplace, the bookcase, the overstuffed chair.
2nd – the content of your poem clearly evokes some of the dreams that I had – I could hardly twirl a baton in real life – but I dreamed of dancing and singing – and my best friend and I would makeup entire song and dance routines in the front yard while music was playing. Late 50’s and early 60’s.
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I was of your era..maybe a bit older. My sister actually had the whole ball of wax..one outfit that was sparkly silver, another corduroy in the team colors of orange and black, but I never made it past the boots!!
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Lovely memories.
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