New shoes

I had a traumatic event happen this weekend – my old shoes finally fell apart. I had worn them down to nothing, and I finally noticed the soles on both had cracked across and were revealing their inner linings, like those show girls in old French revues, but with less kicking and shouting. The damage is too extensive; they can’t be repaired. I can’t bring myself to throw them out yet. They’re sitting on a chest in my bedroom. Later this week, I will steel myself and discard them. It may drive me to drink. (Obviously I can’t walk to drink because I have no shoes.)

I had that pair for nearly eight years now. They had been polished many times, but still looked good particularly compared to rags. And they were so comfortable. I wore them every day to work and around town and had a thousand and one adventures in them, some of which I can even share in mixed company and in the hearing of law enforcement.

Now I’m having to wear my church shoes to work. Of course, they’re nice shoes, but they’re not as comfortable as the late and lamented casual pair. Eventually I will work them in, of course, but it will take several months before they lose their piety.

I got on the Internet and tried to find a pair exactly like my old ones, but apparently Earth Spirit isn’t making shoes for men anymore. I found one place that had a pair in the same style, but didn’t have them in my size. Wal-Mart, where I had originally bought shoes, only offer two pair of Earth Spirit shoes now. Both are women’s knee length boots, which truly will go with nothing I own even if they had my size and I was so inclined – which I’m not, despite those photos from the New Year’s Eve party and riot.

And so I’m in uncomfortable shoes facing something I really dread: shopping for a new pair of church shoes. Affordable church shoes. And I really, really, really hate shopping for shoes. I never have on the right socks, can’t find my size, and am unable to try on any shoes without wondering whose feet had been in them before and did they have some fungus that would pierce my socks and attack my body until I end up as a news item on Weird World News. And because I have trouble finding the right shoes, the clerk will get annoyed with me, and I'll feel pressured to buy something to prove that I wasn’t just wasting his time. Finally, whatever I buy will go on sale the next week.

Still, there's no avoiding it. Some day soon -- before Sunday -- I will be standing in front of a local shoe store and gathering my courage to venture within. I should get a medal. Or at least a shoehorn.

Copyright 2009 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved.

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