Sunday 30 September 2007

The Life of my Shoes

Way way way down south, away from the New York's and London's of the world, down in the antipodean island of Tasmania, a new pair of shoes awoke for the first time. They had been delivered only that afternoon and as the sun went down and the people went home for the day, the outdoor store (for that is where the shoes had been delivered) gradually become alive.

The ancient wooden kayak yawned extravagantly and looked across his domain. From his stately position, strung high above all else, he could see the entire shop and the new shoes, some of which had already been placed on display, glanced nervously in his direction.

Who could he be: this enormous, grizzled being who looked nothing like them whatsoever? One pair of shoes stared avidly across for some time, then the right shoe (for the right shoe is often the more bold) piped up and spoke up for the first time.

"Hello. This place is awfully big. Can you please tell us where we are?"

Several other shoes that had been delivered that same day stopped their restless eyes from roving and directed their attention towards the kayak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls", he began, for he was a polite being, well versed in putting newly delivered shoes at their ease. "You are some of the luckiest items ever delivered, for you are in an outdoors store and you may - if you are extremely lucky - be bought by some adventurous soul who will not just take care of you (for that can happen anywhere) but take you to the four corners of the globe. Why I remember the time I first opened my eyes: there were no outdoor stores then - or precious few. Shoes were all thrown together into one big store and they had almost no chance of getting the types of adventure you may have." He looked around at his audience, thinking to go on, but halted as he realised that a restlessness had sprung up below. Each newly delivered shoe turned to its partner and begun to talk excitedly.

"Hey there left shoe. Isn't this an amazing place. Check out old man kayak up there. Look at all the other things for sale." said one right shoe.

"This place is so big." said another. "I can hardly see the other side".

Now of all the shoes delivered that day, way down at the back was a quiet set of shoes, brown in colour with a generous amount of rubber underside and in places likely to wear. On the outer-facing side, "Merrell" was written in a subdued orange. After quietly surveying all around them for several minutes and listening to all around them, one of them whispered to the other.

"Look at all these wonderful shoes around us. How can such as we have any chance of ending up with a good master when there are shoes like these all around?" upon which he motioned towards an awesomely technicolour pair of shoes positively glowing in the dark.


From his hallowed position above the old kayak heard these tremulous words and with a gentleness which belied his weather beaten looks he whispered, "Now now young one. I'd not worry about them shoes over there.

"Every owner is different and every shoe is different. Some owners are all show and others full of getup and go" He paused for a second. "And its not the colour of your material that's all important to a person who loves adventure - though that's part of it. Its how comfortable you are, how strong you are and how they think you'll look after your feet".

Reassured, the plain brown suede shoe nodded and grew quiet once more.

"Hey, this place is great!" announced a pair of red shoes. "I bet we're bought by somebody who loves going fast."

"Who wants to go fast?" sounded a gruff voice nearby. A large pair of walking boots had decided to join in.

"Protect the feet and carry a load, nice and slow. That's the go."

"No way, no way," an ultra-light pair of fluorescent yellow shoes chorused together. "Mean and lean is the way to go. The lighter the better to go quicker."

Of course this brought forth derision from some and sage nods of agreement from others.

Why so?

Just as each man and each woman are different, made for their own magical purpose, so to are shoes made differently: some are made for walking in the city and others in the country. Some are made for walking and others for running. Some are made to be ultra comfortable whilst others (which are really quite vain) are made to simply look good.

"I wonder what sort of shoes are we?" wondered one of the plain brown shoes. "I feel as if we are built to go places."

With this thought uppermost in their minds they started settling themselves for bed. Slowly but surely it quieted down all around them, as all the new shoes around them settled down...
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The next morning was a wondrous day for all newly delivered shoes. People from all walks of life kept on coming into the shop. Old people, young people, daggy people, cool people and many others all came in. Some were looking for shoes, others to buy a tent and others again just looking around.

The red shoes were the first to be bought. A gay young man perused the shelves, looking until his eyes spied the bright red shoes.

"Fantastic." he thought to himself. Ten minutes later, carefully packaged, the red shoes left - the first pair of shoes to go.

"How exciting." cried out the left shoe of the technicolour pair. "I bet they are off to some great times. Dancing the night away maybe or exploring each day the cool streets of the city." Some of the shoes sighed, green with envy. Others twittered nervously, thinking how hard it would be to leave the store and all their friends.

As the day went by more shoes were paired with new masters and left the store for a new, unknown life. Some shoes were paraded for prospective owners, some were even tried on, but for some reason they just weren't suitable. Some were too wide, some too narrow. Others were to colourful - or not colourful enough.

Throughout all this, the plain brown shoes sat quietly to one side, watching one pair of shoes after another being bought, but not once did somebody even look at them, let alone try them on. Whilst other shoes lost themselves in euphoric excitement as they were tried on, the little brown shoes remained, calmly waiting for somebody to try them on.

And so it went: day after day. Shoes being tried and bought. The stolid pair of walking shoes, after waiting patiently for just over two weeks were finally tried on and bought by a likely looking master: a bearded youth with a look of ruggedness about him. "Don't you worry you fellows", cried out the walking boots as they were being packaged up. "Your time is coming near".

The plain brown shoes listened and hoped that soon somebody would come along who would take them down off the shelf and into an exciting world: one where they could walk along dusty tracks and over high mountain passes. And so it was to be.
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That very next day (a Saturday), early in the afternoon, clad warmly with the most solid and comfortable - but heavy - boots, a young man strode in. He viewed the array of shoes on display with an experienced, jaundiced eye. He quickly discarded several shoes in his mind - the brightly coloured and the gaudy, before taking a closer look at shoes which looked to offer that for which he sought.

Unpretentious shoes, sturdy shoes, capable of taking a battering without falling apart whilst at the same time able to provide support and protection to the feet within.

One pair. Two. Three pairs he chose to try on. Then, with his last glance he saw the plain brown shoes and indicated that these too he would try on.

Now for a shoe, the first time that a human tries you on it is a momentous occasion. Every moment of your existence to that point means nothing if you can't find a home and the first few seconds of being fitted are critical.

As the young man sat down ready to try on the various pairs of shoes he'd selected, he cast a critical eye over all the shoes. "I'll try these ones first". he said, pointing to the plain brown shoes.

"Very well sir." Said the assistant. And he began to lace each shoe. Now this may look as if it is easy enough thing to do, but a poorly laced shoe is a shoe not ready to help protect the feet of their masters, so it was with some trepidation that the plain brown shoes submitted themselves to being laced.

Fortunately the salesperson was well versed in lacing shoes and each lace eased through the eyes of the shoes with ease - not to tightly, which would constrict any foot, yet tightly enough to be firm.

The young man picked up the left shoe first and balanced it on his hand before carefully sliding it onto his foot.

"Hi there new shoe", said the foot. "How are you?"

"Very nervous, thank you." voiced the shoe. "I've never been tried on before". The feet of course had many times before tested out new shoes and could see the shoe was ill at ease.

"Don't be nervous. Your doing fine", it said. "Heck, I should be the one whose nervous. Its always a trying time when looking for a decent pair of shoes".

The shoe thought about the other and the problems a foot faced when trying on shoes, then piped up. "What type of shoes do you need?"

"Not just any shoes. We need shoes that can look after us as we step through amazing places: far off countries with mighty mountains, where the people are poor (yet beautiful and friendly) and the streets lined with dirt. Shoes so comfortable that we can travel in a plane for hours at a time without problems yet strong enough to withstand sharp mountain rocks. Durable enough to be trusted friends for many a good year" said the foot.

"What do you think? Can you be that shoe?"

The left shoe quailed, a timorous soul almost overcome with the myriad things for which the foot was in search for, and was overwhelmed with the magnitude. The right shoe however, who had avidly been listening to all being said, a little more bold (as right shoes are want to be) piped up.

"We aren't special shoes. Plain shoes are we, but one thing I do know. We were made for the great outdoors. I know we don't look fancy and a city life isn't for such as we. Feel us. Try us and see if we can be who you need us to be" . The shoe blushed at its temerity and lapsed into silence, embarrassed after its outburst.

Meanwhile, the left shoe fit itself snugly to the foot. Each curve of its material followed the contours of the foot - not too tightly, yet snugly enough and the foot, comfortably ensconced thought to itself "This shoe could be the one for me."

The young man put the other shoe on, tied up the lace (not to tightly) and stood up. Exaggerated steps he took, searching for excessive movement or tightness from the shoes but they held firm. "These shoes have good support" he thought to himself.

He took a couple of quicker steps, then broke into a run and the shoes, unready for the unsought weight, cried out under the pressure.

"To much to much", they cried. "How can we do our jobs when so much is thrust upon us?" Yet unconsciously and without thinking, with each step taken the shoes firmed up, giving the feet stable platforms and the ankles generous support.

"Well done, well done", cried the feet. "Being inside you really feels quite sweet."

"Surely this pressure is to much. One more step and we'll tear asunder." The laces, also brand new, slipped a little as the shoes jolted on the store floor, then braced themselves once more. Two steps, three steps, four steps more and the shoes gradually began to move as one.

"That's the way!", the right foot said. "The support you give is really quite fantastic."

"Do you really think so?" asked the left shoe. "Do you think I could carry you through all that you ask?"

"Of course we do", both feet cried out at once. "But first let us try out these other shoes." and the shoes were taken off, then watched as another pair of shoes were tried on.

"I'm so nervous", said the left shoe. "Do you think we are good enough?"

"I don't know", replied the right shoe. "but working with feet to support a person is a serious thing. All that weight. All that movement is a tricky thing". They lapsed into silence and a moment later another pair of shoes were placed next to them.

"Wow", one of them said. That was no easy thing. So much movement. I could hardly hold the foot within.

"We know what you mean", chorused the pair of plain brown shoes. "All that weight coming down is a difficult thing."

As they were talking, another pair of shoes was tried on, but quickly they joined the others.

"To big. We are to big.", they bemoaned their fate. "The feet kept on moving and we couldn't help at all!" they said quite disconsolate.

The other shoes shook their heads in sympathy, yet secretly glad that one pair of shoes was out of the running.

"I'll take these ones", said the young man. "Don't worry about packing them up. They are so good I'll wear them right now".

Upon which the plain brown shoes were picked up and put back onto their new owners feet.

"Well done", cried the feet. "We thought you'd be the one."

"The plain brown shoes straightened themselves up and carried their new master through the shop. Other shoes who'd not paid them any attention (the bright coloured shoes in particular) looked on with envy.

Its an especially big honour for any new shoe to actually be worn straight away and the plain brown shoes were speechless when they heard that's what was happening to them.
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And that, my friends, is how the plain brown shoes left the shop. Just as the feet had promised, the shoes went to amazing places, protecting the feet from injury as they went. Along hundreds of kilometres of track they went, trekking through the majestic Andes mountains in far off South America, where stones unexpectedly moved as the steep tracks climbed through one high pass after another.

And in the streets - lined with dirt as the feet had predicted - the shoes did their best to keep the ills of the world at bay. Of course they didn't always succeed (on wet days water would seep through them to the feet) but by and large a better set of shoes a pair of feet never had.

And that is the story of the shoes which sit on my feet right this second.

Love,

Christo