Shoes Do Not Make the Person, but they Carry Him Across

    We recently got rid of a lot of pairs of shoes. Some were like boots, some like sneakers, some were for dress up occasions. Some belonged to my boys, but most of them were mine. These shoes, some of them wearable and others broken and chewed up, were donated to my wife's high school, for some kind of fund raiser and help for the needy. We give on. I think I got the best uses of the footwear. Usable or not, I hope they go on and give and give.

    Those shoes gave me some times. They got me some places. 

    I bought some Reebok mountain boot types, I think at an outlet in Kansas, many years prior, in 1997. I certainly liked them. They were brown (a light tan) and had black souls. The shoelaces? Never broke. Or did they? Were there traces of red in the blue of them? Estos cordones. I would wear these boots to work sometimes, especially on Fridays when the dress code was lowered. Fridays are dress down days in many offices. I worked in one office in Chantilly, Virginia, where people could pay five dollars to wear blue jeans on Friday. That was for a fund-raising cause. I wore those boots, even though they were falling apart.

How many times and how many years did I wear them? What year was the most that they were worn? Maybe 2001. Perhaps 1999. How many miles, outdoors and indoors did I take them? How often did they help me get from there to here? A lot. Let's say 1,000 times. Some days multiple times in a day. Were they the ones that I got dirty when I removed my dad's pond deck in Indiana? No, that was years before. Or was it? That could have been 1997 or 1998. Those boots got filthy. By the end of that task, I might have removed the boots and finished in bare feet. Hot and muddy and filthy job. But I did it, it felt good. Dirty boots and all.

    There were some running shoes, or basketball high tops in there that we got rid of. Although years before, in the older, smaller house, a mere mile or so from where I write now, in a three-story place with a basement that we now optimally utilize, my wife got rid of some shoes that I missed. For example, a red and white pair of high tops, that had run their course with me, perhaps based on weight. I thought of giving them to my friend Aaron, who probably weighs 30 to 40 pounds less, and could have used them for basketball, a sport that we tried to play a bit on Wednesdays, and the night games plus Saturday games with the stake, the old stake of ours, where we won the tourney one year. Good memories. I have worn lots of basketball shoes over the years.

    Another pair given away while at the old house (I guess no sale) were some black shoes that were dressy, but worn visibly. Scuffed. But I liked them; I still would have worn them a few more times. Since 2016 or whenever that was.

    Overseas I wore boots, both military and civilian. In Afghanistan I got a cheap pair of Chinese books that only lasted a couple of months, and the corners cracked and my German cohort complained when I taped the corners. I went to my expensive grey boots, and they were warmer, more comfy, and did me well in the winter and in the warm times. I would wear those in Chantilly on Fridays and other occasions. They were good, but I ran them into the ground, and we had to release them to a fate of the scrap heap. Some of my best pair ever. I will always remember them fondly.

    In the Middle East I wore the Army kind, boots with nice rubbery insole supports; it took me a few weeks to get those comfortable, but it went really well. My pinky toes became pretty calloused, but it all worked out. I brought some of my dad's shoes with me, and wore those for some things like church or a local close meal. They were a little snug, but they worked. I wore them last night to a restaurant. Brown, semi-sporty, but good enough for in between activities. I tried to not walk in them that much on base in the Arabian peninsula, or the Gulf, but they worked. I brought some running shoes that I would do for the occasional two-mile run, and the end of the tour division run. I bought a pair of pretty well priced high tops in a luxury mall in the capital city. I played a little in them. I did not play much, and I waited for December to risk it. Different story, trying to get my Army time to qualify for benefits... Title 10 versus Title 32...

    We got rid of some dress shoes, some of them worn and chafed, ready to move on. I bought some used dress shoes that I wear every week to work now. Sandals? Crocks? We moved some out, I guess. A full box of footwear, some of them good for immediate usage.

    And, that is my dedicatory to shoes and boots, sandals and footwear, past and present.

    I am thankful for the carriers and protectors of my feet. They took me to many countries, cities, jobs, parties.

Not these. Mine were skinnier, dorkier. But they were cool. For a quarter century, almost.