Foot Notes

© Deborah Turner

In all the days of my life I could have never imagined that I would be standing here in these shoes today. Life has a way of throwing curve balls, interceptions, and foul balls no matter how hard you try to do the right thing. We all go on about our business, put in an honest day’s work, love our families, raise our children, pay our taxes, and sometimes fate just says …

“Ha! It’s just not enough!”

Sometimes in life it can be hard to find shelter from the storm. Some days the wind can be just a bit too strong, the clouds a bit too dark, and somehow along the way the water just begins to seep into our drafty old umbrellas.

There is little that I wouldn’t give right now for a pair of pretty pink sandals and a French pedicure on a beach in Hawaii. Unfortunately and realistically what I actually have is a pair of waist high waders rugged enough to withstand knee deep drama. How can this be? This was supposed to be the time in my life when I should be wearing those little pink flip-flops on the beach in Hawaii, or at least a nice pair of espadrilles on the deck of a Carnival cruise ship. So tell me, when does mom get the flip-flops and the pedicure? I was hoping to reach that point somewhere before orthopedic shoes, and bunion surgery … only time will tell.

I miss my shoes from the good ol’days. As a child I ran around in Keds, and PF Flyers … when I wasn’t barefoot that is. We played outside all day until the street lights came on. I had many carefree summer days in Buffalo New York wearing my dirty canvas sneakers proudly until my big toe peeped through the top of my shoe. My white canvas sneakers lent on to not only where I had been, but also to where I was going. Dirt, grass stains, and the red dye # 5 from the Popsicles I snuck out of the house to my friends after lunch.

Mary Jane’s walked me through grade school, with my knee high argyle socks in concert with my green polyester skirt. To this very day I can still remember the red rubber snow boots with the loop-button closure at the top. They somehow always let the snow melt into my shoes at the bus stop in first grade. Saddle shoes made a brief comeback in Junior High School; it didn’t even matter if I was the last girl to get a pair. High School brought me Clogs. Even the guys wore them! They were pricey, not very good for climbing fences, and on more than one occasion I stepped right out of them into a Buffalo snow bank. After all, it wasn’t cool to wear boots in high school.

The career world brought me all kinds of shoes. The white nursing shoes were comfortable and rewarding. I worked at a retirement home caring for the elderly, definitely a worthwhile experience. There is something nice about being someplace that people are happy to see you. Perhaps it was out of loneliness or maybe just boredom but the residents would chat endlessly to me about their lives, their wonderful children, grandchildren and so on, but strangely enough … they had no visitors. For the most part they were kind, and just grateful for the company. This entirely outweighed the fact that Florence Goodemote had just thrown her dinner tray at me, or that I had to chase Mr. Potter out of Gertrude’s room once again.

Platform shoes also made an appearance in the eighties, somewhere after Bob Seger, and prior to REO Speedwagon. High heels were always fun. A four or five inch stiletto, pared up with a strappy red dress practically guaranteed of a great night out and free drinks. Thongs were always a comfortable summer essential, but in the old days we wore them on our feet. These days they call those flip-flops and the thongs are worn somewhere else entirely. Who knew? Back then I would never have imagined that I would entertain the thought of Birkenstocks and moisturizing night socks either. Where does the time go?

Sometime after the stilettos I moved on to the wedges and cute little kitten heels. Eventually it was time to settle down into the classic pump, suitable for business attire, a day at the office, and Church on Sunday. Pumps are boring but they were easy to slide into on my way out the door, juggling a cup of coffee, a diaper bag, and a baby on my hip. Strangely enough there has been more than one occasion that I went to work wearing two different shoes. Sure, I laughed it off, kept my feet under my desk, and attributed it to the baby keeping me up all night. Once kids come into the picture you can forget about fashion ... or even matching shoes. This trend does not end however once they grow up. Most recently I arrived to work wearing two different shoes upon waking up to my child’s empty bed and discovering that my youngest daughter decided to go to Utah for breakfast.

Marriage and children brought Reeboks, or at least the closest knock off. They were usually appropriate for chasing small children, animals and stomping on spiders. I always wanted to make time for hiking shoes, biking shoes, or even water shoes, but who was I kidding? In between the Reeboks and the mismatched pumps there was too little time for anything else. I bought athletic shoes with good intentions, but never got to use them for much more than chasing kids and stomping out bugs. Sooner or later as the kids got older I ended up in a nice walking shoe while driving them all over town.

Alas, before I knew it the kids were driving themselves and the pumps were killing my feet. By this time I needed a good pair of running shoes again, in more ways than one. I was sick of stomping out bugs, and busy running around finding out the whereabouts of my own grown children. Comfort was a priority because I could have ended up anywhere from the outlet mall at Anthem to the 99cent only store in El Mirage. In between it all were the unending shopping trips looking for the perfect summer shorts, or an outfit for their first job interview.

Finally, I remember wearing a comfy pair of mules watching my youngest child graduate from high school. I was thinking that in just a few short years these kids would be independent and trying on for size all kinds of shoes for themselves. I hoped that they would pick out sensible shoes … but I knew better. You see we all have to try on our own shoes for size. Some of us try to squeeze ourselves into something that does not fit. Some of us don’t have the ambition to try on anything other than a pair of bedroom slippers. Some of us try to wear too many different kinds of shoes, but I have learned that no one can try them on for us. No one else can walk in our shoes. I pray that my children choose comfortable ones.

Soon enough it will just be hubby and I once more. Perhaps some comfy shoes for both of us would be nice. Slipper would be great … or perhaps that little pink pair of flip-flops on the beach in Hawaii. Really, at this point who cares except me? Any beach would do even one on Lake Erie. I hope to get there sooner or later, at least before the orthopedic shoes, and bunion surgery. Only time will tell.