There we are. The Fab Four. 1964. There I am, on the right. LOOK AT THAT OUTFIT! I remember the day the photographer came to our home for the pictures. We were in the living room. My mother made me wear a bozo suit: pink top, HUGE white bow with pink polka dots and a skirt to match. I don't know how I managed a smile after the FIT I pitched over the outfit. A clown suit, something you'd see on the monkey next to an organ grinder. Hop, hop, scratch armpit.
I remember those clothes with chagrin. Looking at them now, they don't look so bad. It's funny how a powerful memory, something that feels written in stone, can change under the hard scrutiny of present day. It makes me wonder if the things we remember are as true as we think they are.
