Telling Shoes

My summer is going alright. I’m sane, most of the time. I mentioned before in my post (see post: Summer Joy) that it is not much of a break for me. You might even wonder how I am posting twice in one day. You might have noticed that I have not posted in a while. I have been writing though – in my head. So much in my head. I have been telling you all kinds of things. Sometimes when I think, especially when I am going to sleep at night, my thoughts come out as “articles.”
They are long too. I mean, I can write a whole piece in my head. When I try to stop it, I can’t. I love to write. I love to tell you things. It’s in my blood I guess. But these days finding the time to put it down is not easy.
One night, I wrote a great piece about shoes. About how if you read in just about any book about poverty, fiction or non, you will find that the feet are often mentioned as a barometer of how poor the person really is.
The fact that a person might or might not own a pair of shoes is usually stated. Or that a character’s feet are swollen, red and in terrible condition because they don’t have shoes due to poverty. Soldiers in battles most often have wet socks (if they are lucky enough to have socks) because their shoes have holes. Much of the time they are walking in snow too, so the feet are cold.
Poor rural southerners go to school barefooted while the super-wealthy kids’ shoes are clean, white and shiny. In Asian books, foot-binding is a way to tell if the girl is wealthy; no binding, no money.
I once watched an episode of Oprah where she was in Africa giving the kids there presents for Christmas. They were happy with the dolls and footballs, but when she gave them each a pair of Nikes they went berserk. It was appreciation gone wild.
Shoes are a window to prosperity. If you ever feel like you have nothing, look in your closet. Do you have shoes? Then chances are you have much more than you think.
And why am I posting twice today? I have a babysitter! A bona-fide babysitter. I even allowed her to take my children out and about so I could have time at home today, alone. It’s great, this time. I am grateful. I’m grateful for my shoes too, all 26 pairs of them.
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