Several years ago, my son sent me a pair of plastic shoes, at least I think rhey’re plastic. He told me that these shoes that were riddled with holes were all the rage in Seattle where he lived and they were called ‘Crocs’. I had never heard of them but I wore them around the house because they were comfortable but never wore them out into public. I considered the shoes to be a symbol of west coast liberalism and while, maybe secretly, I admired some of their thinking, I still am a middle of the roader and didn’t want my neighbors getting the wrong idea and get the authorites sniffing around for marijuana plants in my sweet corn.
But I wore them a lot at home, even though I soon discovered it was impossible for me to walk backwards in them for more than five feet. I never was able to figure out if the problem was the shoes or some defect in my coordination skills. After several tries at correcting the problem, I ended up trying to make sure I never put myself in a position where I had to back up.
Somewhere this spring, duriing the transition from Florida to Indiana, one of the Crocs disappeared and I was forced to wear a cheap chinese knockoff. They were not the same so yesterday I broke down and bought a new pair of Crocs. I looked at the cheap imitation models but decided that my feet were worth the money of the real thing. I have not worn them yet, still reluctant to wear Crocs in public but I have noticed that they or their imitators are very popular with the Wal-mart shoppers.
I’ll be wearing them in my garden soon but I hate the thought of getting them dirty. I am hoping that though some miracle I will be able to walk backwards in these new shoes. You would be amazed at how often one is called upon to do just that.
You might notice that these have a little more cushion than the original models, a nod to my advancing age.