October 29, 2009
When I was a boy, we got our shoes at Youngtown behind the Lowenstein's Department Store in Poplar Plaza.
I would perch up on a tall booth with my socked feet on the metal pegs while a salesman slipped a pair of creamy Buster Browns on me. I was then made to stand while my mother and the salesman took turns pushing down on my toes, squeezing the sides and sliding my heel in and out.
"Is this too tight? ... Too loose? ... Does this pinch? ... Is there room? ..." they asked.
I gave them half answers: "Pretty good. Not too. Sorta,'" knowing that whatever the next day brought, cramped toes or blistered heel, I wouldn't complain. The questioning I went through at the time of purchase had been too rigorous for me to dare speak up 24 hours later.
Our kids' shoes come from Target now. I guess. Shoe buying isn't really my department. Some are handed down from friends' kids, I'm pretty sure. For all I know, my children are taking shoes from classmates ... (read more)
