He needed new shoes. We got the ones for P.E. (that’s “physical education,” don’t you know) on the evening of the first day of school, the ones that he can’t wear anywhere other than the new gymnasium because we are all taking care of the gymnasium floor. And don’t read any resentment from me in that sentence, because there isn’t any. I don’t mind. I understand. But still– he owns a pair of shoes that he will only ever wear for P.E. So there’s that.
He needed new shoes. Ones for skateboarding. Yes, skateboarding, like every other sport (and yes, I’m calling it a sport, or an x-game, if you’d like) is a Shoe Specific sport. It wants the Right Kind of shoes. I thought he might be imagining it. Didn’t I just get you a pair? But a close look at that pair (when did I buy those?) revealed sole coming free of upper, Serious Fraying around the laces, general and meaningful Wear and Tear.
He had a pair given him by his friend Caleb– very cool ones, green, and a brand name that I am, as of now, anyway, still fairly oblivious to. They are Real skating shoes– not purchased at Target– but somehow the bottom of the shoe hurt him. This was mysterious to me. The bottom of the shoe? Yes, you know: the place where the sole of your foot goes. “There’s like ridges in there, Mom,” was the explanation. So we went to Target to find him a new pair and found…. Nothing.
(And let me just say that I was proud of him at this point. Because the name-brand pair that Caleb had given him was a Name-Brand Pair and yet Will, despite being in the 7th grade, was willing to shop– post Brand-Name Exposure– for shoes at Target)
But I did find little inserts– I think they had gel in them?– that would pad the bottom of the shoe. $9.00 instead of $25. Will was Perfectly Happy with this. With a Great Deal of hope, I placed them in the cart, and we took them home.
They worked.
Still, he needed new shoes. P.E. shoes and skateboarding shoes and, of course, the flip flops (not that he wears these, really). His soccer shoes are standing him (no pun intended) in good stead for now, despite their being the same pair he wore last spring. But he needed new shoes.
“Just to wear, Mom,” he explained to me. “Just for everyday.”
I understood. He isn’t allowed to wear the flip-flops to school. He doesn’t want the skateboarding shoes to become Exhausted. He can only wear the soccer shoes on the soccer field (cleats and all). And the P.E. shoes? You know.
We looked for the shoes he was going for (“Like soccer shoes but without the cleats”) at Target, to no avail. There was nothing hip. Nothing cool. Nothing that was Right.
This was the night of the gels. And perhaps it was his acceptance of the gels that made me make the promise I thought I shouldn’t make, the promise I was certain would cost me A Lot of money, the promise to go to Dick’s Sporting Goods for what? Everyday Shoes.
Dick’s Sporting Goods had them. Those and many more, in fact. But the sort that Will wanted? Only one variety. Simple. Elegant for a boy’s shoe, really. A plain black soccer shoe. No cleats. And three white stripes traveling slantwise down the sides. Adidas.
They were $44.00 On Sale.
I’ve never been a shoe person. The fact that shoe fashions change is a reality to which I have only recently become accustomed, and it still feels a bit like a waking nightmare. It’s bad enough that fashions change– must we also invest in shoes to update our wardrobes? The expense for such frivolity finds me, frankly, Reluctant to Go Out.
But I remember my first pair of Nikes, back in (was it?) sixth grade. Everyone was wearing them. Everyone. And had been for Some Time. Until those Nikes, I got all my shoes at Sears. Shoes and everything else, I think. I think, in fact, that I got my first pair of Nikes at Sears– but that didn’t matter. They were Nikes. They were mine. And they felt like Cool in a box.
Will tried on the shoes. They fit. He jogged around the little running track they have painted on the wooden floor back by the shoe section. They were just what he was looking for.
I did ask him to pay a portion of the total. $44 just feels like a lot of money to spend for feet that are growing as fast as his are, for shoes that will be, in all likelihood, Exhausted just after the turn of the year. But I paid for the bulk of it, and was glad to do so. And now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have just paid for it all. I don’t remember the details of that day (so many years ago now) in Sears, but I’m Pretty Sure my mom paid for my Nikes.
