By Rick Houser-
Almost every Sunday we gather at my son’s house for lunch. This past Sunday I noticed something I had just not been looking at and that is, all of my grandchildren rarely wear shoes. Now since they had just returned from church I feel it safe to say they attended Sunday services wearing shoes. I am also guessing that this comes on orders high command. (Also known as, Mom and Dad said so.) With that said and Sunday services over, five pair of shoes just seemed to vanish.
Of course this got me to thinking back and I must admit I can’t tell you what my shoes in my youth looked like because I was always barefoot. I took a short survey and none of my friends recall wearing shoes when snow wasn’t on the ground. My wife said she walked down the tar and chipped road in front of her house to her grandmothers, and back barefoot, and every night her Mom used a rag with some gasoline on it to remove the tar from the soles of her feet. I ask if she recalled the tar being hot and she said she only remembered getting tar removed which in my mind meant that her feet weren’t hurt, just stained a little.
Another lady said she was barefoot any and everywhere and didn’t recall her feet ever hurting. A couple more also said shoes just were not needed unless you had to do chores in the barn. One never knows just what sharp objects might be encountered in the barn. This meant that the shoes were only a protective device and not an object of comfort. As for myself, I shed my shoes as soon as the ground was warm enough to not allow frostbite. From the tobacco beds to the tobacco patches and out into the plowed ground an even, the hay fields where the hay had been mown and only the stiff stubble remained. In front of our house was of course, Fruit Ridge Road. It was a county road and in those days, the roads were tar and chipped. The theory was to put down a layer of tar and spread fine chipped gravel over it and as the temperatures would rise, the gravel would blend in with the tar. On paper, this probably looked great. The truth was when it was put to real use by the time the tar had gotten hot enough to mix with the stone, the cars had rearranged the stone to where it stuck in the middle and piled up loosely along the sides.
In the days of my youth, traffic on Fruit Ridge was scarce so I was permitted to walk along the road. I have also said that in the summer, my cousin Walt was living just up the road and I made a daily trip up Fruit Ridge to his home to play. I don’t recall ever wearing shoes as I walked up that tar-covered road. No matter how hot the tar got I never thought it was an inconvenience. My conclusion is that as a youngster my feet were made of shoe leather. I feel it safe to say all youngsters feet are shoe leather. As a youngster, our feet are invincible.
These days I in no way would be able to walk on the road or out in the yard for that matter. Nope I am tested just walking barefoot in the house. Therefore, I come to the question. Just when and how did I go from invincible to a big wimp? My first thought is that having to wear shoes all through my school years and then all of the years that I had to wear them to work had a lot to do with softening my feet. I can’t prove that but I think I’m going to blame it anyway.
So I go back to Sunday and my grandchildren. The oldest one, Simon, seems to be in shoes more this year than I have ever seen him before. However, he is socializing and playing baseball so shoes are necessary. (Impossible to attach cleats to a bare foot.) My second grandson might possibly not own a pair of shoes as I can’t recall when Max ever had a pair on. My third grandson is Miles and he compromises as I never see him in shoes but he will wear the socks. He might be the one to become a politician.
My next grandchild is Madeline and with her it just depends the mood she might be in but she will either be totally barefoot or in as nice a pair of shoes that she has. (She is into fashion.) My last grandchild for now is Quinn and she is near one and a half. With her, they start her out in shoes but as time passes there is a very good chance she will show up in only one shoe and content to be that way. It is no wonder I am amazed when I watch them.
Feet can be indestructible but as it was pointed out to me, no matter how tough your foot might get they still don’t handle stepping on a sand briar or a thistle.. I have stepped on a piece of glass, which can range from uncomfortable to requiring a band aid. I guess the thing is there is always some downside to every upside. I loved the days of ‘barefootin’. It was a freedom we had. Maybe we made our feet a little tougher so we got that freedom. To feel the blades of grass running across your feet is a great feeling, as is squishing mud between your toes. In addition, when riding on a truck or a wagon with a breeze, not only is it a super feeling for it to run across your face but also your feet. Yes, just how good was it to feel all of nature touching us and all we had to do was be out and leave those old shoes back in the house. The answer I guess is, it was priceless.
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. If you would like to read more of his stories, he has two books for sale. You can reach him at P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.
