The Metaphysics of Shoes

Balboa Press

Contents

Acknowledgments.........................................xiIntroduction: For the Love of Shoes.....................xiii1 Baby Shoes............................................12 Dancing Shoes.........................................83 A Man and His Gators..................................194 Stilettos.............................................265 Shoe Shine............................................336 Footprints in the Snow................................457 In His Shoes..........................................568 Lucky Shoes...........................................689 Bloody Soles..........................................7610 Broken Heel..........................................8911 Bowling Shoes........................................10112 Royal Sandals........................................114In Summary..............................................130Conclusion..............................................132About the Author........................................136

Chapter One

IT HAD BEEN COLD THAT day. She'd taken extra care to bundle up her one-year-old baby girl for the long bus ride downtown. She had walked the three long blocks to the bus stop many times, but on that day, it seemed farther than usual. It was the same journey she had made on her way to the babysitter, both her jobs, and the grocery store. But she'd worked overtime the night before and slept only a few hours. Overtime meant a few more dollars to help make ends meet, so she worked the extra hours whenever possible. For a brief moment, she thought about turning around, but then she remembered that she had waited three weeks to get a Saturday appointment. So she did what she always did. Just around the time she reached the end of the second block, she held her baby girl a little tighter, adjusted the diaper bag on her shoulder, and moved her purse to the other hand. For the third time that day, she stopped to make sure the little brown paper bag she carried was neatly secured in the diaper bag. Each time she checked, it was there, safe.

When she arrived at the photography studio, there were several parents and children already waiting. She looked at the faces of the other parents and could see in their eyes that they wondered how old she was. She had seen that look many times in the past year. I should just shout it out, she thought. I'm eighteen, and yes, this is my baby—and no, I'm not married! Instead, she made her way to the last vacant seat in the waiting area, trying hard to avoid the stares she wanted so much to believe didn't matter to her.

She prepared herself for the long wait, which she didn't mind. It gave her an opportunity to warm up from the long journey. Her baby girl had fallen asleep on the bus ride and seemed heavier to carry. Nevertheless, the baby's limp body made it easier to maneuver the diaper bag, purse, gloves, hat, and the heavy clothing required for winter days in Michigan. She took great care not to wake the sleeping angel on her shoulder as she waited patiently like all the other parents.

Finally, when she was called, she leaped to her feet. The sudden move caused her daughter to open her brown eyes and begin looking around with curiosity. She planted a soft kiss on the girl's forehead, which seemed to assure the child that she was safe.

"Please come this way, miss," the saleswoman said. She led the young mother to a small bright yellow room with lots of pictures on the wall. The saleswoman placed a large folder on the table. "You may begin looking at these. I'll be back in a few minutes to take your selections."

When the young mother saw the first picture in the stack, a huge smile stretched across her face. She nodded, admitting to herself that she had been right—her baby girl was indeed the most beautiful baby in the whole world. It was a tough decision selecting only one picture from the many beautiful poses, but one seemed to capture the essence of her little angel a little more than the others did.

The saleswoman returned. "Have you made your selections?"

"I'll take this one."

"Just one? Out of all these beautiful pictures? The cost decreases per picture the more you buy," she said as she looked through the selections.

"Surely you want some for family and friends."

"Just this one," the proud mother said as she stared at the picture for a moment. "Yes, this is the one."

"Oh, I see," the saleswoman said as she began to place the others back in the folder. "Do you have the shoes?"

"Yes, I do." She reached into the diaper bag and pulled out the little brown paper bag she had been guarding with her heart. She removed a tiny pair of shoes as if she were handling a precious gift. "I tried to clean them up," she said as she handed them to the woman, "but they're still a little scuffed."

"Oh, don't worry about that. When we apply the bronze, you'll hardly notice it. A few scuff marks will add a bit of character to the whole thing. Shoes are made to be worn."

"It's hard to believe she wore them out so quickly." The young mother stared at the shoes, knowing it was the last time she would see them in their natural state. "She started walking early, at seven months. Even the doctor admitted that's early."

"Well, think of it this way," the saleswoman said. "She's got places to go, and she's not wasting any time."

Both women laughed.

"Adding the bronze will take about a week or so, and we can mail them to you so you don't have to come pick them up."

"That would be great. It's quite a long bus ride to get here, and the service is slow on Saturdays."

The young mother watched the saleswoman finish the paperwork and then place the tiny shoes in a plastic bag.

"With your deposit, your balance is nine dollars. That includes the picture, the bronzing of the shoes, the frame, and of course the shipping," the saleswoman said.

The young mother shifted her baby from one arm to the other so she could reach into her purse. She pulled out a tiny coin holder that held two five-dollar bills folded and stuffed in with the two quarters she would need for the bus ride home. She proudly handed the two wrinkled bills to the saleswoman. As she waited for her change, she began preparing her daughter for the long trip home.

"Here's your change and receipt." The saleswoman took another look at the little girl, who had watched quietly during the whole transaction. "She is such a good baby. Usually the ones we see are fussy and cranky from the long wait." She touched the little girl's hand. "You are such a little blessing. You are a special baby."

"Yes, she is," the young mother said with great pride.

And then, in a moment, the thoughts of the past faded, and the young mother was a middle-aged woman again. Working two jobs for many years had been unkind to her body, but she had no regrets. She stood in the living room of her modest home, staring at the picture of her grown daughter draped in her cap and gown. Despite all she had gone through, to arrive at this moment was more than worthwhile. As she removed the old baby picture from the frame, she replaced it with the photograph of the adult version of her only daughter. She spoke to her as though she were present: "My daughter, the first in our family to receive a doctorate degree. My, oh my, how proud your grandmother would have been had she lived to see...