no, it’s not a fetish thing ...
i’ve learned over the years that happy feet make for a happy person; whether you’re in a marching band, on a football team, a day laborer, a hunter, a beachcomber, in a jazz band, a tourist, a poser, strutting through lower manhattan, or painting large canvases on long island or in the backwoods of pennsylvania ...
if your feet ain’t happy, you’re going to be miserable ...
besides, after speaking your first words - taking your first steps is a pretty momentous occasion ...
this subject arises through a flood of emotions which i generally work through in silence and paint - but since weather is impeding my production, i thought i’d try writing it out ...
my late Father’s birthday is arriving in a few days - october 21st ...
birthdays of his immediate family were always important to him - a day to honor those you love, if only in remembrance ...
much of the time i spent with him while growing up is obscured by my own preoccupations - mostly because he was a quiet and deliberate man that just did what needed to be done without fanfare - so my memories are heightened when he did speak or give advice; particularly in difficult or scary situations: like crossing over a pretty torrential stream on a broken tree and being afraid of falling in, or hiking through rugged pocono terrain in sub zero temperatures, or driving through white out conditions on rural excursions to my grandmother’s home on holidays - the advice was always: “one step at a time”, or “just keep walking”, or “keep moving ahead” ... it’s the simple message i rely on most when the going gets rough - and he knew that ...
a few of my last memories of spending time with my Father was here at the barn where he’d love to visit during my working day - a place where he began to understand what it was i did for a living, and how it wasn’t that much different from the work he enjoyed - carpentry and machinery ...
on one particular autumn morning - not unlike today - he came out with the idea of chain sawing down a few dying trees around the property, and even though the buzz cutting while painting is an annoyance, “it must be done” ...
what scared me was, i saw him trip and fall a couple of times - something i’d never seen him do in my life - and when i asked what was wrong - he said, “ah, must be these shoes” ...
turned out to be the beginning of a malignant brain tumor that began to severely effect his balance and nearly another year of surgeries and suffering until cancer finally claimed his life - throughout which, he never complained - and through the many trips to kimo and doctors when i tried to approach him about it, he’d say “whadya gonna do - just keep plodding ahead” ...
a couple of other things spawned this entry - the other day i read a blog by my dear friend - the poet, michael lally - about having to get a new pair of sneakers for his skateboarding, pre teen son - who apparently obliterates them with frequency [see entry] + the fact that i’ve been buying myself a pair of comfortable chukkas around my birthday in february to gear up for my painting season every year to find this year, the chukkas are blown out six months premature ...
i attribute this to faulty workmanship - whereas my wife reminds me that my production has probably doubled already this year - either way the wearing, and the wearing out of shoes tells a lot about a person ...
i recall one of my childhood chores was to polish the family shoes every saturday ...
my sisters’ and Mom’s were usually pretty easy, delicate, with minor maintenance required - my Dad’s boots, on the other hand were a massive undertaking with abrasions that cut deep into the leather depending on the work and weather of that particular week - and the stories of how; a fallen I-beam, hot tar, bull dozer tread, barbed wire, jack hammer cuts, saw dust, oil, wood stain, paint, etc. - shoes tell the story ...
what amazed me, was all the things you had to know and be willing to do to wear out a shoe ...
his simple messaging continues to resonate, even after all these years - and his passing provided me with more appreciation for life, faith, family, friends, and the work i’m able to do ...
like all the yesterdays, this day will come and go - but not without fond memories of a man who guided me along the path ...
