Goody two (hundred) shoes
Dad’s shoe collection is comparable to widows of foreign dignitaries
Comments (...)Does anyone remember Imelda Marcos? The widow of Philippine President Ferdinand Marcos. She is probably best remembered for her collection of nearly 3,000 pairs of shoes.
Well, if you’re wondering whatever became of her, and I’m sure you aren’t, she’s alive and well, living in Southern Illinois — as my dad.
Actually, she’s back in the Philippines after a brief exile in Hawaii and elected to the legislature by an overwhelming vote despite hundreds of criminal charges still pending against her and her family. So, the dad thing ends with the shoes, but that’s weird enough.
I never figured my dad for a shoe fetish, and I never knew he had one till recently. I can’t figure it out.
First of all, my dad is fairly thrifty. Actually, extremely thrifty. Thrifty looks up to him like a big brother. This seemingly cannot be reconciled with a shoe fetish. But this is no ordinary affection for shoes.
Normally, when one has a shoe fetish, it is for outstanding designer footwear. One usually thinks of women having a lot of shoes, but guys often have more of an interest than a person might realize. I have noticed on occasion that even I have a lot of shoes. For the most part, they’re all different for different purposes: Work boots, snow boots, cowboy boots, sneakers, black dress shoes for work, brown dress shoes for work, flip flops for the summer, slippers for night time. It starts to add up. I wouldn’t call this a fetish; I’m just prepared for a variety of situations.
Dad’s shoes, on the other hand, are generally quite similar. Far from designer treads, they are the cheapest soles to be found on clearance at the Big Mart store. Most of them have Velcro straps instead of shoelaces. There are several duplicates in design.
It came to light a few weeks ago that Dad needs to wear orthotic inserts in his shoes. Thus, he needed to go up a size in footwear. The result was a need to get rid of all of his “old” shoes. Mom called me one night asking what size shoe I wear. Dad and I have had the same shoe size for the past 30 years, so I thought she knew. Dad beeped in with his cell phone asking me the same question. It was clear that they believed they had found a recipient for Dad’s shoes.
I didn’t really need any shoes, and I especially wasn’t interested in shoes deemed fashionable for someone who is nearly 80 years old. When they came up north for Christmas, they had to bring the truck because they had all these shoes to deliver. I failed to transfer them to my car and the shoes went home with them. They were not to be outfoxed, though, and they were laying in wait the next time I visited. I was greeted at the door with a dozen shoe boxes filled with sneakers, most of which had never been worn as evidenced by the tags still on them. Mom confessed that she had taken 20 some boxes to Goodwill.
Why does anyone need that many shoes? I asked Dad if he bought shoes every time he went to the Big Mart store. He said he did and usually two to three pairs at a time. I can attest by the tags that he never spent more than $10 for a pair of shoes. I guess he felt like he needed to stock up at that price. I think maybe he just forgot every time he went to town that he didn’t need shoes. Maybe there simply was room in the cart, and he wanted to make each trip to the checkout counter seem efficient. Since he doesn’t drink beer, it’s cigarettes and shoes for him.
I’m sure the employees at the Big Mart didn’t help. They’d see him coming and the gals over in the shoe department would salivate. “Girls, I think we’re going to make that month’s-end bonus after all!”
Dad is the kind of guy who would rinse and dry a paper towel three times before he would use a new one. He collects rain water in buckets to use in his garden even though he has a well on the property. When he practices his shooting, he tapes over the holes in his targets instead of using new targets. He just doesn’t spend money. We always figured that for every dollar he ever earned, there’s got to be 99 cents hidden somewhere. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s not stored in shoe boxes.
On the other hand, when gas reaches $5 a gallon, people will be walking more and I’m going to have the market cornered on affordable footwear. Maybe ol’ Dad was onto something.
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(c) Copyright 2012 by David Porter, who can be reached at david@ramblinman.us. All rights reserved. Speaking of shoes, is a cobbler someone who does shod-dy work?
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