You can buy shoes with memory foam inserts, but other sorts of memories may be attached to our foot apparel.

During the years I spent as a citizen lobbyist, I got to know my Congressman’s District Director. One afternoon, I had gone to lunch with her and another friend. As we were leaving the restaurant, she stopped in her tracks, pointed to our feet, and exclaimed, “We’re all shoe people!”

Maybe you have to be one to understand what she meant. But the bond between the three of us deepened at that instant.

As time wore on, so did my feet. Maybe I’m old fashioned, or perhaps I’m simply old, because I have become a person who always wears socks with sneakers.

Summers are hot where I live. On days when the temperature hits 70℉ before 8:00a.m., I usually opt for sandals. The sneakers only come out of the closet, if I am going for a long walk, or if I will be traveling.

One morning about a week ago, my foot was a little achy. My sandals didn’t offer much in the way of arch support, so I fetched my sneakers from the shoe rack. Then I pulled a pair of black anklets out of the drawer and sat on the wicker chair by the window. 

Once my socks were on my feet, I reached for the right shoe. That’s when I noticed that there was a deep crack in the rubber sole. I wiggled it slightly to get a sense of how bad it was and a small black chunk came off in my fingers. A quick inspection of the bottom of the shoe revealed that this had not been the only fissure.

At first, I sat still and pouted. But I had a dog that was expecting his walk, so I could not indulge my self-pity for any longer than a moment. I removed the socks, put on a pair of sandals, and got on with my day.

I don’t like to believe that I am particularly materialistic. Could I be so shallow that a worn-out pair of shoes would wreck my spirits? I don’t have a favorite pair of shoes, but these were a sturdy standby that had been through a lot with me. And they were expensive. Three decades ago, my elderly fashion mentor had cautioned me that shoes with good support are essential. I didn’t heed the wisdom of her warning until late in life…. Ah well. Nothing is accomplished by looking back with regret at foot problems that might have been avoided. It’s enough to be grateful that I eventually saw the light!!

Anyhow, by the time I got back from my walk, I was resigned to buying new shoes. When it dawned on me that those broken sneakers had served me well for nine years, I realized that whatever I needed to spend to replace them would be a sound investment.

Those shoes were already a year old when they traveled with me from San Francisco to London.

I wore them as meandered through the streets of Exeter, ambled across the moody terrain of Dartmoor in Devon, and strode along the cliffs of Cornwall, overlooking the Celtic Sea. 

Perhaps there is still some usefulness left in those sneakers. They may yet support my feet a time or two, as I putter in the garden. But I’m well aware that once the rubber soles begin to crumble, there is nothing left to do but say goodbye.