Summers in South Texas are hot. San Antonio was hot and in drought during the 1950’s and so some accommodations had to be made. Bare feet were the norm. We ran the neighborhood with them bare, heck, even the grocery store was not off limits to our shoeless peds. Come bath time (mandatory every night) black filthy feet were scrubbed and made ready for white sheets. Stickers in our backyards and alleyways were a real hazard and too much pain and time were wasted picking them out of layers of toughened dermis. OUCH!
If memory serves me, sometime in the early sixties the THONG was introduced to our dime stores and our fashion footwear was altered. Rubber slippers with two straps coming to a point between the big toe and its neighbor changed everything. They were so soft, easy to slide into, gender neutral and most critical, THEY WERE CHEAP. A pair could be had for just 10¢. Everybody had ‘em. Every family had hoards of them. They hid out everywhere – under beds, in the wrong part of the closet, under the couch, between things, in the bathroom, in the car, on the patio. After a while you didn’t even see them. They blended in with the rest of the household. It seems it was just as easy to make them in a rainbow of colors as just one. Pink and all other pastels, were in keeping with the times, girls only. In a rare fluke of female freedom they could also wear any other tint or hue that was hanging around the house and available for the snatching. In a family of 7 like ours thongs were breeding in every nook and cranny. At any given moment I could easily and without much effort hunt down close to two dozen. Now, of course, that was not 12 PAIR of flip flops (the more fun way to say thongs) but a wonderful assortment of colors and sizes and new and old scattered like Easter eggs. The booby prize was finding a flip flop with a broken strap. As in, that big blob of rubber keeping the straps in place got pulled out of its hole. Drat! Now it was useless. One shoe… garbage, ready for the trash (and no chance of being recycled – kapoot ).
The real drag was when the this tragedy struck while stomping around in the thick of stickerland or far far from home and the hope of grabbing a replacement. Ugh, Ugh, Ugh. the worst kind of One Shoelessness…
It is simply unnatural to walk around half shod. It throws the world out of kilter. Lopsided. No balance. DANGER! Self pity sets in. Why me, God? One foot scorched and full of dry stickers, the other safely protected and happy to be cushioned and loved.
Flip flops were the main culprit of this One Shoe thing. There were others….
Stop right now and go to your special shoe place and count every pair you possess. Is it more than one pair for Sunday, one pair for school, and one pair for after school play time in the cooler temps? That was standard in my day. Shoes were worn until the soles had holes… until the shoe laces were threads… the glue let go and you had two pieces of shoe…. the patent leather strap on your Mary Jane’s broke and one way or the other you found yourself in that One Shoe! Clomping around like a pirate with a wooden leg. Socks exposed to the elements. The indignity of it all was beyond what any child should have to endure. Mild traumas as such add up.
My life has given me many ‘One Shoe’ moments. Sometimes those moments stretch into days or years. The decades go by and my cheeks sag a little more, the forearms are sprinkled with giraffe markings, I work harder to battle the grays and yet life feels more and more precious.
My 3 children flew the coop years ago and landed where weekly, and mostly tri monthly visits now form our family dynamic. I miss them. They were part of my steps. And I always paraded them around with TWO shoes! Grand babies that can put a smile on my face bigger than Dallas and bring laughter deeper than the ocean we cross to mingle for a while are part of that same deal. In between, I travel my days in One Shoe. A little off balance. Leaning to one side. Hoping to come across another flip flop and feel back in the groove.
Time marches on for my mom now 93 1/2. A reminder to me to drink in the good, the bad and the ugly daily. What a gift my mom’s thirst for life is for her and me! Every day must have adventure or she will make it happen. Staying in the house even one day is not an option… My feet follow behind and I wonder how I will one day have to manage with one shoe only? Will I ever feel complete again?
40 years of marriage has become the cornerstone of my life. Everything now springs from that communion of me and him. Our steps have been in stride together for so long now that I cannot imagine walking alone. Even a fabulous vacation with a girlfriend in Maui (one of the most spectacular islands on the planet!) was the least bit empty without his flip flops along side mine. It was another hot San Antonio summer of neighborhood fun and games and I was trying to keep up with just one lousy thong…. Life is best when I am confidently strutting my stuff saddled in the comfort and security of my other half – my other shoe… Not to say that the union has been 24/7 heavenly bliss and there were not days when I hobbled alone and endured the pain of uno zapato … but how else would I have come to delight in the fullness and feel the glow of journeying in my favorite pair.
My World My Words 