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brown shoe memory lingers. It began with a trip to a
shoe store that displayed a glassful of shoes, some
with high heels, smart looking men’s shoes, and a
sprinkling of shoes for boys and girls, that were
identified gender specific.
It was in the array of
unoccupied footwear that I noticed the Buster Brown
shoes! My mind was made up as I imagined my self
strutting up to the school playground tapping the
pavement in my new brown shoes.
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I would be the envy of my
classmates!
I heard the voice of authority
verbalized by mother informing me that I didn’t want
that type of shoe!
I was deaf to the message.
Another authority appeared in the guise of the shoe
salesman. My mother, my unsolicited mouthpiece,
announced like that I needed shoes for school. The
shoe salesman after dutifully measuring my feet,
but, not my choice, scurried away to fulfill my
unspoken request.
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Various boxes were deposited at
feet level. Energetically, lids were removed to
display shiny patent leather shoes, white shoes with
pink stripes, black loafers, that contain a space to
hold a penny if you were lucky to have one, No Buster
Brown rounded front toed shoes were considered or
displayed.
The salesman chanted the
wonders of each shoe as he shoved, squeezed and
tugged my feet into the predestined selection for
girls only shoes. Then the quiz began, Which one
did I like? A different color? Something with a
higher heel ? Lower heel? Straps ?
I just shook my head “No” to
every query! Then I the inhabitant of the shoe
choice was asked, “Is there any shoe that you might
like?” Shoeless, I ran to a counter where the Buster
Brown shoes were just waiting for me to claim them.
With a smile as big as the shoes I returned with my
choice. The chorus of two greeted me with “Those
shoes are for boys, you don’t want those shoes!”
What part didn’t they understand? I did want those
shoes or so I thought.
Weeks went by, and I got my
dream Buster Brown shoes. I imagined everyone
admiring me as I walked to school in my blue dress,
my short lacy stockings, and my Buster Brown shoes.
That magic was in my head. I waited for my
classmates to verbalize their envy! One of my
friends pointed at my shoes, and asked, “why are you
wearing boy’s shoes?”
I guess I wore them as long as
the soles lasted, and the heels were beyond repair,
and the rounded toes had their fronts scuffed and
scratched.
I came to realize that Buster Brown shoes won’t make
dreams come true, it is choices!
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