You've seen these old shoes before, when they were new. I have worn them to meetings, to lunches, and shopping. I have worn them to stumble over lava rocks in Hawaii, and wade in the surf of Sanibel Island. I have climbed and slid on mountain trails in the Smokies with them. My sister criticized them roundly each time she saw them, saying they were the ugliest shoes she ever saw. But they were so comfortable.
Eventually they began to look a little dingy and the sole began to separate from the shoe. I threw them in the washing machine, which helped the dinginess, but not the sole problem. For that I used super glue which only partially worked. Being reluctant to cast aside such a comfortable pair of shoes, I took them for use in the garden. They lasted a couple of months through that, then the sole opened up a mouth between it and the shoe body. That set me thinking about my Daddy. When we were kids and the sole would release from the shoe, he wired the two back together, as neatly as such a thing can be done and we were good to run quite a few more miles. This was done when the sole was still good, but the stitching holding it on had rotted, as is prone to happen when you walk through barnyard manure on a dairy farm.
So
In remembrance to daddy, I wired these shoes back together for a few more rounds. I enjoyed remembering how he could fix almost anything with whatever was laying around and whatever tools he had. I tend to think now of that as the mark of a farmer, a vocation I hold in highest regard.
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