Shoes

Shoes(Vicki) I am an unadulterated shoe girl; all the women in my family have always loved loved shoes. None more than June, my mother who at 81 was still wearing high heels. I think besides the death of my father and a granddaughter at birth, the saddest day of her life was when she could no longer wear high heels. This was the last straw in admitting you were old. We can color our hair, wear makeup and use soft lighting to hide our wrinkles in hopes of holding off the time bandit, but feet tell our age. There are many shoes stories in our family’s funny story lore, but two stand out.
Shopping with Mom always meant eventually we would settle into a shoe store for the purchase of shoes. It didn’t matter who got the shoes, just so a pair was purchased and taken home to add to our collection. Men may have trophies on their man cave walls, like deer heads and antlers, but Mom had shoes. The ritual began with “We need to go shopping and get you some new clothes”. It wasn’t on any certain set time schedule you know like the beginning of school or season change that would warrant new clothes, it was “June” time. We would pile into the car and drive to the down town section of the city. This was before shopping malls and concentrated shopping in one store. There were six different shoe stores where she could find her perfect trophy. She never went hoarding crazy mind you, we wore the shoes and made good use of them.
Mom and I were on the quest for her a new pair of “every day “shoes, as she referred to her future purchase. This meant sturdy shoes with ties and leather tops. We had gone through all five other store and we were down to the last place. I drug behind her as any teen ager would do, embarrassed that my Mom couldn’t make up her mind on a dumb pair of shoes. In the store a young man ask to help Mom, she waved him off and started the prowl. Thirty minutes later she waves him back to us and gave him several shoes and ask to try them on in size 5. He looked happy to help and off he went to the back room to find Mom’s choices. Sensing her potential failure to find shoes she liked, the dance started with me. “Look at these, they would look great on you”, no thank Mom is all I could muster without tempting fate and getting a smack for smarting off in public.
The shoe boy returns with a stack of boxes hovering over his head. This was going to be a long event for me and him. After all those picks it turned out, “just not what I was looking for”, the next selection round began. This time I think shoe boy sized Mom up as a no sell and wandered away. Little did he know June would not be defeated and return home without a shoe trophy? She gritted her teeth, pulled up to her entire height of 4 foot 10 inches and round two was on.
She took 45 minutes to make her selection and once again, shoe boy was obliged to find them for her to try on. This time he decided to take a direct approach and he was going to help Mom find a pair of shoes to buy. With his shoe horn ready and his neck tie tucked into his shirt his adventure began. Finally a smile I recognized so well was on Mom’s face. This was it she liked them and we could get the heck of the store and me home to the telephone that should have never been severed from my ear. Just as she started to walk the carpet for the true test of a shoe, shoe boy open his mouth and said “Lady this is the same style shoe wore in here”. Looking down I too realized after the on and off of many shoes they all started to look alike. The next moment made me proud to be a woman. Mom casually turned and looked down at the twin shoes she was now sporting and without missing a beat said” yes I know, but these are tan”.
Years later I would recall this shopping glitch with Mom and hear her side. She was so tired and wanted to go home, but Dad had made her mad and she was bound and determined to buy something. When she looked down at the new same shoes, she was horrified. She couldn’t let that pimple faced kid show her up as a bewildered woman, so she went with the flow. That was one of her best qualities; you couldn’t get one over on her. She was light on her feet and had a quick mind.
When thinking about what you would like your funeral to be like, shoes really don’t seem important. You are not going anywhere where they could make a difference. So when mom became so ill we knew it was time to let her talk about what she wanted. Mom never minced words or beat around the bush. The truth was the truth and needed to be said out loud. She made her wishes known and we as dutiful children would follow them to the letter. She picked out what funeral home was to be called and we already had a spot for her next to Daddy. She didn’t have a lot of money to will us, but Donna and I were to split it. Then the important instructions came, what to wear, hair, makeup and shoes.
During mom’s illness, Donna had been the shopper for her clothes and anything else she needed. We were both nurses and covered her needs around the clock. Donna had been a beautician before becoming a nurse and always “did” Mom’s hair. I’ve been to enough funerals to know things can go very wrong and that would not happen on our watch. The day came when Mom closed her eyes and passed away softly with family by her side. It was a death we could only wish for and hope to earn.
Donna and I now had a time line and needed to make things happen. Whenever there was a big event in our lives, we always got a new outfit and new shoes. The first day of school, a party, first dates and proms wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary, but a funeral? You have to know that Mom was a lady of the “greatest” generation. June was born in 1921 and survived many of our history’s biggest tragedies and success. From the great depression, WWII, the twin towers she endured a lot. She and women of her generation had codes to live by. I use to think it was only cowboys of the old west that had those codes to guide the journeys. One of her codes was when you went somewhere special you dressed up. There couldn’t be any place any more special than Heaven.
Without a word spoken between myself and Donna the plan was in action. We would shop at the best stores and make Mom’s last outfit worthy. I guess you could confide in a sales lady we were on a quest to buy an outfit for our departed mother, but that just seemed creepy. We decided to shop like it was for one of us and lessen the weird factor.
We found the perfect suit for her. I can still see it now, aqua blue with beaded detailing around the collar and edges of the jacket, a light beige silk blouse completed the look. Donna and I looked at each other and said “now the shoes”. Remember Mom had not worn high heels in years and there was nothing to stand in her way now. So it was patent leather and ¾ inch perfect heels. These were timeless in thier beauty. Like watching Audrey Hepburn in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” with her simple black heels, sun glasses and a hat to die for. Mind you Mom would not be wearing a hat or sun glasses, but we could make sure the shoes were on. Panty hose, under wear and a good bra made up the ultimate going out outfit.
I can say we are not the greatest generation. Our parents were lucky, women stayed home and made the house work and men showed up at work and made a good wage. There wasn’t any confusion about the roles we played in life. There were always the same kind of people you find in our society today, but they were under the wire and didn’t go on national T.V. and tell everything on themselves. Mom loved watching outrageous talk shows and cop shows. I think she became a pretty good detective just by osmosis and getting to watch the police crime shows for decades. I was thinking about having the theme song from “Law and Order” played at the funeral. At the last minute my good 1950’s up brigning stop me from doing something only I would get. So I guess we all have a bucket list wither we climb the hymalas, swim with sharks or just wear great shoes once again and relive the fashion that made our mother’s ladies.