Soul Food Love
Peanut Chicken Stew
Congressional Cookbook: The Junior League and the Congress
Library Desk: Doors and Desks
Sleigh Bed: Texas and Louisianna
Keepsakes: Earth Stars and Sky Stars
Portrait Table: Icebergs and Angels
Battle of Nashville: Slaves and Soldiers
Maid of Honor Portrait: Three Third Grade Bridesmaids and a Sexy Brilliant Woman Priest
Red Dining Room: Table and Chairs
Jubilee Singers with Lavender: Alfred Stieglitz and Fisk
Mirror Portrait Caroline: Caroline and her Portrait
Sofa: Couches and Dreams
Silver Coffee Urn, Saul Martin Portrait: Zelda Sayre and Gatsby
Harlem Chairs: Tammany Hall and Harlem
Tuskegee Wardrobe: Brownies and Smithies
Portrait Chair: Harper Lee and Sigourney
Dear's Ice Cubes
Working Library: Cynara and Windsor, and Hope
Me and My Blog
Fort Pillow Massacre: Nathan Bedford Forrest and Madison Smartt Bell
My Boots: Nancy Sinatra and Roy Rogers
Longpage, 1913: Stephen Stills and Frank Lloyd Wright
Cold Cucumber Soup
Six Cases of Cookbooks: Julia Child and Caroline Williams
Magnolias: Magnolias and Magnolia
Statute of Alexander Pushkin: Pushkin and Othello
Take The Ow Out Of Now: Buddha and Nietzche
Stars and Bars: Stars and Stripes and Stars and Bars
Joan's Nicoise
New York Times Editorial: Copyright and the First Amendment, or Margaret Mitchell and John Seigenthaler
Soul Food Love

    My Boots: Nancy Sinatra and Roy Rogers

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    I bought these cowboy boots to go to a rehearsal dinner at the Bellmeade Plantation for a young women who is now an OB-GYN in Northern California and the mother of two. The wedding took.
                 The boots took too. They are Rocketbusters. When I wear them under long black gowns to balls my feet never get tired. Because the toes are pointy and black people rarely guess, unless I lift my skirt, that I’m wearing boots. I usually wear these boots from mid September through February, just about the same season old fashioned southern ladies and me wear velvet. As long as I can walk, I hope to keep wearing these boots and black velvet shirts that part of the year.
                 I have only ever loved one other pair of boots. Previous to my black and red and green cowboy boots, I owned white gogo boots. They had thin soles. They were flimsy, designed for discos not Detroit sidewalks. I was given the boots in Detroit but I wore them most significantly in Washington, D.C. Half way through third grade, I wore those boots in a gymnasium auditorium school performance. Girls in Mrs. Placide Robert’s class danced to Nancy Sinatra’s biggest hit, “These Boots Were Made for Walking” and I did "the pony" off the stage.
    When I sang “get ready boots, start walking," I was talking about walking back to Daddy and Detroit and away from a wicked witch in Washington.