My children's grandma Rose had a shoe closet that would have put Imelda Marcos' collection to shame. Her feet were size four and a half extra wide leaving room for her rather large, often sore bunyons. I usually saw her wearing the same, brown laced pair of sensible footwear, around the house. When going out, however, she suffered the pain and proudly donned the high heels which elevated her to a full five feet tall.
Any time we passed shoes for sale, Rose would stop and look. Then, if there happened to be something in her size, anything at all, she'd make the purchase, thus adding to her vast stockpile.
I have a vivid memory of a trip to Las Vegas back in the 70's. We happened on a little strip mall which contained penny slots, Vegas showgirl gear, a Frederick's of Hollywood, and a shoe store. I was young, attractive enough and "with it" when it came to style, fashion and footwear. I became particularly enamoured with a pair of strappy beige wooden platform heels I saw in the shoe store window. Being certain that I could easily get them in size 8, I confidently entered the shop.
"I'd like those too," Rose announced to my surprise and followed me through the door.
An eager middle aged salesman came to help us. We told him of our desire for the pair of shoes in the window. He gazed down at our feet, back and forth. Then he looked up and shook his head. I began to feel sorry for Rose as I was certain that her wish could not be granted.
The clerk then announced confidently, "You, I can fit easily," and staring directly at me, he said, "You? With those enormous feet...I think you should probably just wear the shoe boxes."
As he left for the back room, I was in shock. Was he kidding ? My mind was racing. Did I just hear the salesman insult me and suggest that I had unusually large feet? What a nerve!
After a few minutes, he returned with two boxes...one size 4.5 and one size 8. We each tried on the shoes. Perfect fit. We were overjoyed. As we paid and proudly wore our new acquisitions out of the store, I realized what had just happened.
It was a wise and clever salesman indeed. Instead of just bringing out the shoes, he managed to boost Rose's confidence and make an older woman happy. My ego on the other hand, as a twenty something was inflated enough to withstand his jab.
Robert Brault said it well in this quote, "Today I bent the truth to be kind, and I have no regret, for I am far surer of
what is kind than I am of what is true."
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shoes. Show all posts
Monday, July 2, 2012
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Don't Horn in on My Shoes
Recently, when my dad was visiting, I helped him put on his shoes. I like slip ons. Shoe horn goes in, slide foot forward and voila, good to go. Simple. No need for him to bend or balance. I was quite proud of my efforts and the rapidity with which we cooperatively accomplished this task. I hadn't lost my touch. All those years of inserting kindergarten feet into shoes certainly prepared me for this. It was then that my hubby asked "Why's your father wearing my shoes?"
It was that singular question and my stuttering attempt to explain, that brought back a flood of memories.
Every spring, the kindergarten teachers at my school held a student parent information night. While the eager new parents looked on, I would remind them of two things. Firstly, when there are 25 four and five year olds in a group, they can't always locate or identify their own shoes. Please write their name on each shoe. Secondly, shoes should be easy for the child to put on himself/herself; velcro closures, slip ons and elasticized pre-tied laces are best. It got to the point where I even brought and demonstrated samples of suggested types of shoes. It sounded obvious. Then in September when the children arrived at school, there would be only a handful of moms and dads who had considered my requests. The rest had to learn the hard way.
Children's running shoe styles are somewhat limited. Imagine a dozen pairs of girls' shoes sporting Dora the Explorer or Barbie and another dozen pairs of Spiderman or Transformers boys' shoes. Now add to this the fact that many four and five year old children wear size 11 or 12. Double the number of shoes because children had both indoor and outdoor footwear. On days when boots were added to the equation, the chaos that ensued was something akin to a riot at the G20 summit.
Each day, I managed to insert curly toed feet, tie, snap or velcro children into footwear. If they were lucky, they even ended up wearing their own shoes. Not once did I send a boy home in Barbie shoes or put a girl in lace up army boots, quite an accomplishment under the circumstances. That's not to say that there weren't instances of children heading home with two left shoes, while others sported two rights of the same style and colour. This occurred if they managed to dress themselves and leave without my careful inspection and it was not always a good thing, particularly if one of the children in question was absent on the following day. Once in awhile we even lost a boot or shoe. I would search and search while a child sat patiently on the coat room bench wearing one boot. Odd. It usually showed up as if by magic a day or two later.
I wish I had thought of the response that is clear to me now. The obvious answer to hubby after he asked the question "Why's your father wearing my shoes," should have been, "I didn't see your name on them."
It was that singular question and my stuttering attempt to explain, that brought back a flood of memories.
Every spring, the kindergarten teachers at my school held a student parent information night. While the eager new parents looked on, I would remind them of two things. Firstly, when there are 25 four and five year olds in a group, they can't always locate or identify their own shoes. Please write their name on each shoe. Secondly, shoes should be easy for the child to put on himself/herself; velcro closures, slip ons and elasticized pre-tied laces are best. It got to the point where I even brought and demonstrated samples of suggested types of shoes. It sounded obvious. Then in September when the children arrived at school, there would be only a handful of moms and dads who had considered my requests. The rest had to learn the hard way.
Children's running shoe styles are somewhat limited. Imagine a dozen pairs of girls' shoes sporting Dora the Explorer or Barbie and another dozen pairs of Spiderman or Transformers boys' shoes. Now add to this the fact that many four and five year old children wear size 11 or 12. Double the number of shoes because children had both indoor and outdoor footwear. On days when boots were added to the equation, the chaos that ensued was something akin to a riot at the G20 summit.
Each day, I managed to insert curly toed feet, tie, snap or velcro children into footwear. If they were lucky, they even ended up wearing their own shoes. Not once did I send a boy home in Barbie shoes or put a girl in lace up army boots, quite an accomplishment under the circumstances. That's not to say that there weren't instances of children heading home with two left shoes, while others sported two rights of the same style and colour. This occurred if they managed to dress themselves and leave without my careful inspection and it was not always a good thing, particularly if one of the children in question was absent on the following day. Once in awhile we even lost a boot or shoe. I would search and search while a child sat patiently on the coat room bench wearing one boot. Odd. It usually showed up as if by magic a day or two later.
I wish I had thought of the response that is clear to me now. The obvious answer to hubby after he asked the question "Why's your father wearing my shoes," should have been, "I didn't see your name on them."
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