New Shoes
Florsheim - Merrick Style
I
don’t remember my first pair of shoes, but I have a vintage
photo of me as a toddler, and I’m wearing a pair of white high-tops.
I suppose they were white, since they appear as white in the old black and
white photograph. I’m sure I wore shoes to school when I started the
first grade in Iuka, MS, but I can’t say what they looked like. If I
ever wore a pair of brogans to school I don’t remember it. The one thing
I do remember about the shoes I wore during my childhood is they didn’t
last long enough to suit Mama.
I doubt a shoe for a child could have been bought that would have lasted
as long as Mama thought it should, but if it had been available, Mama would
have sworn we couldn’t afford it. She always said I was rough on shoes.
I’m sure I was no rougher on shoes than my siblings, but with all the
running and jumping, tree climbing, splashing through puddles, shooting marbles,
and sliding on dirt playgrounds, concrete sidewalks, and hardwood floors,
I imagine my shoes hardly lasted until I had outgrown them.
I grew up near the end of an era in which children of the rural South often
went barefooted. And, I imagine barefooted children were more common among
the poorer folks than the ones well to do. I remember a few summers of my
youth when my family lived in Okolona, MS, and I traipsed around the neighborhood
barefooted and even walked a time or two to Wilson Park without shoes. I
remember the sidewalks were hot, but they didn’t compare to the asphalt
on the streets, and part of the distance from my house to the park was spent
walking on asphalt. But, every once in a while, my playmate and I had to
step off the asphalt and onto the grass to let our feet cool down.
In my family, shoes were mandatory for school attendance. However, during
my third and fourth grade years at Okolona, there were a few boys in my class
who didn’t wear shoes to school until about the time the weather got
cold enough for a frost. I can still picture a country boy named Daniel,
barefooted and wearing overalls, and if memory serves me well, Daniel started
the fifth grade barefooted, too.
The shoes that I wore were leather and were secured with laces. I must have
been in high school before I owned a pair of shoes that didn’t require
laces. Penny loafers were a popular style of shoe in my high school days,
and I remember owning a pair or two of them, just not two pairs at the same
time. My folks didn’t have that kind of money, and it would be several
years before I earned more than five dollars a week, which is what my dad
paid me for working in his store some afternoons plus every Friday afternoon
and all day Saturday.
In our high school years, Tony Austin and I used to punt and pass a football
in my front yard. The loafers we wore didn’t hold up well under such
stress and were prone to splitting along the seam over the toes on the right
shoe. The most durable loafer either of us ever owned was made by a company
named Nettleton. Those shoes were solid leather, inside and out. I kept one
such pair for more than thirty years before finally tossing them away.
While attending Ole Miss, I fell in love with shoes known as British Walkers.
They had a thick leather sole and an equally impressive heel. The sole of
the shoe also extended well beyond the portion of the shoe that contains
the foot, creating a larger-than-life footprint. As I recall the most popular
styles were classic wing tips and saddle oxfords. Unfortunately, British
Walkers were out of my price range then, and the company is no longer in
business, which may be just as well, since I can’t see myself spending
three hundred dollars for a pair of shoes.
Deprived of owning a pair of British Walkers in my college years, I later
selected a pair of high quality dress shoes made by Allen Edmonds. I wanted
a shoe that could be coordinated with both dark and light dress pants. I
found a burgundy and black saddle oxford in the Allen Edmonds section of
the Progressive Shoe Store and bought the pair. In fact, I still have them.
They sit on a shelf in my closet, needing a new set of soles. Since they’ve
been resoled twice and maybe three times, I probably should put them behind
glass somewhere or else throw them away, yet the bard who penned, "Parting
is such sweet sorrow," never owned a pair of Allen Edmonds.
Skyrocketing leather prices over the past twenty years, not to mention American
labor costs, have driven most American manufacturers of leather goods out
of business or else to outsourcing in foreign markets. Of the shoes I wear
today, none are 100 percent leather, but all of them have leather uppers.
Most of my shoes have non-leather soles and heels and are suitable for business
casual. I doubt any of these are American made, and I know for certain my
last couple of pairs were made in China. I have the feeling that all our
nation’s goodwill toward China’s economy will come back to haunt
us, much as our support of the Japanese economy prior to World War II did
little toward maintaining world peace.
For the past ten years, most of the shoes I’ve purchased have had some
sort of wear-resistant rubber-like sole. Whenever I’m working in a retail
store, there’s often a lot of standing involved, and my feet hold up
better if I’m not standing on leather soles. Approximately three years
ago, I bought a pair of Timberlands.
The Progressive Shoe Store’s co-owner, Cecil Fauver, explained, "You
need to be sure you like them before you buy them, because you’ll never
wear them out."
I trust Cecil’s knowledge of shoes, but I really doubted his statement.
Cecil grew up in his father’s shoe shop, and following college and a
stint of traveling around the world with Chiquita returned to Pontotoc where
he and his brother Don, now operate the family business.
As Cecil predicted, the leather portions of the Timberland shoes are still
in good condition, however the soles have a few air pockets (not by design)
that normal wear has exposed, and the laces are broken and need replacing.
While there are plenty of shoelaces to be found from giant mass merchandisers
to small shoe stores, I’ve never found a pair of laces that perfectly
matched those that came with a given pair of shoes. But, once I bought a
pair of shoes that came with an extra pair of laces.
On the Saturday morning of the recent fish fry held in our backyard, I parked
across from the Progressive Shoe Store, after running a last minute errand.
Almost a year had lapsed since Barbara told me she would pay for me getting
a new pair of shoes if I would make the selection. I didn’t consider
her offer still valid, but I felt it was time to buy a new pair of everyday
shoes.
I didn’t know the youth who spoke to me as I walked into the store,
but I remember thinking he wasn’t a very aggressive salesman, because
he didn’t offer to help me. However, his boss didn’t pass up the
opportunity.
"Hi Wayne," Don Fauver responded, "What can I do for you?"
"I want to see about a pair of shoes," I replied, wondering what other options
there were in Pontotoc’s nationally known shoe store.
It didn’t take me long to spot a pair of Timberlands like the ones I
had previously purchased.
"I like these."
"Let me check to see if I’ve got that one in your size," Don stated,
then after a brief search, he returned to say he didn’t have one in
stock.
Being inside Progressive Shoe Store is a lot like being in a candy store,
in that there are almost too many choices. Yet, a familiar style caught my
eye. I picked up the burgundy and black saddle oxford, noting it was lightweight
and observing it had a rubber sole.
"This is what I need, and it’s a Florsheim," I thought to myself, while
remembering something Cecil had told me years ago, regarding a similar pair,
"You can wear it with dark or light clothing and it’s dressy enough
to wear with a jacket and tie to church."
"That’s a good looking shoe," Don commented before checking to see if
my size were in stock.
Don found my size, and as I sat down to try them on, I asked, "Where’s
Cecil? Is he off today?"
"Cecil’s out of the country. He’s in Switzerland."
"I hate that, ‘cause I was going to give him a hard time about these
shoes he said I’d never wear out. Is he there on business or just a
vacation?"
"Vacation."
At the checkout, I didn’t think to ask if the store sold shoelaces of
the same type as my new shoes. I think I was too shocked by the price of
the shoes. They were less than eighty dollars and that included tax. I later
discovered why they were so inexpensive. They were made (assembled) in China.
As of this writing, I am enjoying wearing my new shoes. All too often, I’ve
bought a pair of shoes and had to break them in, wearing them numerous times
before they no longer caused my feet to hurt. My new Florsheims were comfortable
the day I first put them on and have served me well even on days when I mostly
stood while working. It hurts me to say this, but perhaps, it’s not
a bad thing that, "They don’t make ‘em like they used to."
Happy
Anniversary Thirty-Seven Years
Occasionally, I wonder what I was thinking in deciding to marry so close
to my birthday. I can only conclude that I wasn’t thinking, as love
can impair good judgment. It’s not that I regret getting married, but
over the years, I’ve considered the problems associated with having
two celebratory events only four days apart. My birthday is August
16th, and my wedding anniversary is August 20th.
Originally, Barbara and I planned to get married in December of 1967. I was
teaching school in Ripley, MS, and we felt the Christmas Holidays would be
a good time for a wedding. Of course, had we waited until the holidays, I’d
be complaining that our anniversary and Christmas were too close together,
so it’s just as well that things worked out as they did.
Neither of us had enough money for an extended honeymoon, so I suppose it
didn’t matter that we married only four days before I had to resume
my duties as a teacher. Our idea of a honeymoon was a few nights in a motel
near the airport in Memphis, TN. By today’s standards, it was a small
budget honeymoon. However, I believe it was my first motel experience.
I have mentioned before that my folks seldom, if ever, took a family vacation,
and if we did go somewhere we stayed with relatives. Thus, prior to my getting
married, motel accommodations were not a part of my life.
In my opinion, wedding anniversaries are of less importance to men than they
are to women. After all, don’t we men have to be reminded of our
anniversary, weeks in advance, if we are expected to celebrate it?
Plus, isn’t it usually the wife who asks, "Did you tell them what happened
this week?" as the two of you encounter other friends shortly after your
anniversary?
My wife asked me that question a couple of times last weekend. With a birthday
and an anniversary only four days apart, I stand a fifty-fifty chance of
responding correctly. I got the answer right the second time.
At age fifty, I had been married exactly half my life, but I explained to
those who were curious enough to ask how long I’d been married that
I was having trouble with the math.
"I don’t understand it," I wailed, "I’m only fifty years old, but
I’ve been married a hundred years. And, if I’ve been married half
my life, shouldn’t I be two hundred?"
My wife didn’t think my observations were funny back then, and this
year, when I told folks I’d been married a hundred years, she still
didn’t find my faulty reasoning humorous.
For most of our thirty-seven years of marriage, we’ve celebrated our
anniversary by dining out, on or near the date of our anniversary. This year,
we chose to eat at home. It was romantic in that only the two of us were
there. Jason had gone to Starkville to play with a band, Rayanne was sick,
Sarah was working, and Felicia had returned to Ole Miss a week early. It
could have been more romantic with soft music and candlelight, but we
didn’t want to overdo it. The grilled rib eye steaks, baked potatoes,
and garden salad were as delicious as any we might have found in an area
restaurant, and cost us a heck of a lot less.
I may get by with similar anniversary celebrations for a couple of more years,
but I have the feeling Barbara will look for something more exciting in 2007,
when we celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.
Turtle Update
No Hatchlings Found
In early June, I reported that a box turtle laid a clutch of eggs in our
front yard. Several readers expressed an interest in this event. Based on
the incubation period, I calculated the hatchlings would emerge in mid-August.
However, within a week or two after marking the location of the eggs, a mole
burrowed right alongside the clutch.
For the past few weeks, I’ve kept a close eye on the area marked as
a "turtle crossing." Other than cracks in the earth due to the August drought,
there has been nothing to indicate any hatchlings might have emerged, and
the cracks were far to small to allow a baby turtle to pass through.
On Wednesday, August 25th, I took a spade to the site and discovered
the remnants of one, possibly two, white, leathery eggs. Since there has
been no evidence to suggest the emergence of any hatchlings, I believe the
mole or moles must have eaten the eggs.
However, the mother turtle is still around. I spotted her heading toward
our neighbor to our north the day before I dug up the egg fragments. Since
turtles often lay more than one clutch of eggs each year, there’s a
possibility we’ll spot a baby turtle or two roaming the grounds next
year. When and if that should happen, readers will be informed.
Bodock Beau
Caddie Remarks
Golf is a frustrating game for some of us. I’ve not played golf at a
course where I required a caddy, but I imagine some of the following remarks
might fit my game.
Top Ten Best Golf Caddie Remarks
#10 Golfer: "Think I'm going to drown myself in the lake."
Caddy: "Think you can keep your head down that long?"
#9 Golfer: "I'd move heaven and earth to break 100 on this course."
Caddy: "Try heaven, you've already moved most of the earth."
#8 Golfer: "Do you think my game is improving?"
Caddy: "Yes sir, you miss the ball much closer now."
#7 Golfer: "Do you think I can get there with a 5 iron?"
Caddy: "Eventually."
#6 Golfer: "You've got to be the worst caddy in the world."
Caddy: "I don't think so sir. That would be too much of a
coincidence."
#5 Golfer: "Please stop checking your watch all the time. It's too
much of a distraction."
Caddy: "It's not a watch - it's a compass."
#4 Golfer: "How do you like my game?"
Caddy: "Very good sir, but personally, I prefer golf."
#3 Golfer: "Do you think it's a sin to play on Sunday?
Caddy: "The way you play, sir, it's a sin on any day."
#2 Golfer: "This is the worst course I've ever played on."
Caddy: "This isn't the golf course. We left that an hour ago."
And the #1 best caddy comment:
Golfer: "That can't be my ball, it's too old."
Caddy: "It's been a long time since we teed off, sir."
Contributed by Larry Young
Share this article with a friend.
Home
Copyright © 2000 - 2004 RRN
Online.
