I am thankful I’ve achieved one of my life goals! Β I got Keds! Β All the snooty kids wore Keds when I was in school. Β Since there were five of us to shoe, Mother showed no interest in putting us on our path to snootiness. Β When the guy at the shoe repair shop gave her notice that shoes were beyond repair, she’d bring home a new pair, sized by the pencilled imprint of the lucky kid’s foot. Β She always went prepared, Β just in case. Β We were a one-car family and there was no possibility of a special trip just for shoes. Β We were whatever she brought home. Β There was no chance we could claim ugly shoes didn’t fit. Β She knew what she was doing.
Sometimes, Β one of us tripped Mother up by having a major shoe malfunction resultingin shoe acquisition that couldn’t be put off till Thursday, Daddy’s payday and her scheduled trip to town, Β in that miserable situation. Β On more the one occasion, she made a panicky trip to the dry goods store in Cottage Valley and bought the only shoes available. Β We hated these crummy sneakers, or “Tennies” as we called them, the ugly, red-headed stepchildren of Keds.
Girls got a style somewhat reminscent of Keds, usually white, wide in the arch, just right for duck feet. Bill got hightop, black basketball shoes with a white basketball on the ankle. Β Naturally, we had to wear theses lovelies till they fell apart. Β Mine were always dirty by the time I got to school, even if I were lucky enough they’d just been washed, and frankly, they weren’t washed that often.
My brother Billy got off the bus in one shoe after school one afternoon. Β Mother exploded. “Boy, where’s your shoe?”
He wasted some time trying to explain and she wasted more trying to make sense of the story. Β Finally, she got down to business and hauled him back to school to retrieve it from deep in a mass of brush on the wrong side of a hurricane fence. Β Undoubtedly, he’d pushed it deeper in his rescue attempts. Β Eventually, they showed up at home victorious except for scratches on her forearms and a tick or two.