When I was about nine or ten years old, my mother took me to Shoetown on Candler Road and I got my first pair of penny loafers. When we got home the first thing I did was run into my room and grab my Baba Louie bank. I took his big plastic hat off, fished out a couple of pennies and slipped them into the slits on the front. I was thrilled and could not wait until school Monday to wear my new penny loafers and show them off. So I didn’t. I washed the car, earned my dollar and headed up to the store wearing my stylish new footwear.
Before I left the house I made a decision that made a profound and lasting impression on me. The fashion trend at the time was penny loafers, Bass Weejuns to be precise, with no socks. All the cool teenagers wore them that way. I wasn’t a teenager yet, but I was definitely cool now that I had a new pair of penny loafers. I put on my surfer shirt with no collar, pulled on my Sears camping shorts, slipped my new shoes onto my bare feet and headed out the door and down the driveway.
About halfway up the hill on Rollingwood Lane, my feet began to feel hot and the backs of my ankles were beginning to get sore. When I got to the top of the hill I sat down on the curb and took my shoes off. My big toes and little toes were beginning to get red but weren’t too bad so I figured that it was safe to continue. I walked down Flintwood Drive and took the shortcut through the back yard of the supposedly mean man with the supposedly mean dog that he would supposedly sic on you and then shoot at you as you ran across the yard. I had never seen any mean man or any dog in the back yard but still ran as fast as I could every time I crossed it. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry.
By the time I ran across the yard, jumped the fence, followed the path through the woods and came out on Vicki Lane my feet were killing me. I sat down on the curb and took off my new penny loafers. Both of my big toes had big blisters on the side of them, as did my little toes. The backs of my heels were completely raw where the leather had rubbed against my Achilles tendons. I let them air out for a few minutes, slipped the shoes back on and continued gamely on my way.
I did not make it far, only about two or three doors down before I crossed the street and sat down on the curb beside the Gulf station. I took my shoes off and decided to walk barefoot. The bottoms of my feet were tough as leather from a summer of going barefoot, but my poor upper feet were not prepared for the abuse they had just been put through. I walked up the sidewalk on Gresham Road, carrying my new penny loafers past the Standard station and turned left into the Seven Eleven store. There was no way I was carrying my shoes inside, lest I saw someone I knew, so I sat down on the curb and eased my shoes back on, wincing and grimacing.
I bought a medium cola Slurpee and four or five packs of Bazooka bubble gum. Sitting on the curb outside the store, I took my shoes off, drank my Slurpee and read a couple of Bazooka Joe comics from the bubble gum packs. I waited for a while, hoping someone from the neighborhood would pull in with their mom or dad so I could get a ride home. After a while I stood up to leave and suddenly had a brilliant idea. I gingerly slipped my shoes back on, went into the store and bought a small Slurpee. Sitting on the curb outside, I took my shoes back off and poured the ice cold frozen drink over my toes and heels. It felt cool, soothing and I let it soak on my feet for a few minutes. I held on to the hope that someone I knew would pull up for a Slurpee, but no one did. I eventually gave up hope, wiped my feet down with a paper napkin, stood up and began the long trek home.
I had slipped my new penny loafers back on, hoping that the Slurpee bath had helped. It hadn’t. By the time I got back to the Gulf station, not only did my feet feel like they were on fire, they were also all sticky inside of my shoes. I sat down on the curb and took off the shoes. It was obvious now that I was going to have to walk the rest of the way home barefoot. Turning up Vicki Lane, I walked up to where the path went into the woods for the shortcut, followed it to the chain link fence and climbed over. The metal wire felt like knives on the raw spots of my toes and my teeth were gritted in agony. Dropping down into the cool grass of the back yard, I stood for a few minutes and let the balm of cool, shady turf ease my burning feet.
No supposedly mean dog came after me. No supposedly mean man came out with a double barreled shotgun either, so I crossed the yard. I didn’t sprint this time. I didn’t even trot, instead walking slowly and feeling the cool grass between my toes. I reached the gate and opened it, walked down the side yard and headed back up Flintwood toward Rollingwood. I thought briefly about stopping at The Girl’s house, but then realized that I would have to stand in the driveway and talk to her through the screen door. There was no way I could look cool while holding my penny loafers with my feet all swollen, raw, sticky and red, so I headed down Rollingwood toward home.
I walked through front yards and the therapeutic comfort of fescue whenever I could. Even weeds were a welcome relief. But when I got to the bottom of the hill, front yards, fescue and weeds were no longer an option. Past Bubba-Bubba’s house and all the way up to ours was nothing but asphalt. I thought about crossing the street and walking through Anna’s front yard and her perfectly manicured Bermuda grass, but that would be walking with the traffic and I was taught never to do that.
Suddenly I had a wonderful idea, a much better idea than walking to the store in new penny loafers with no socks. I cut across the football field on Bubba-Bubba’s side yard, tiptoed gingerly across the rocks on the creek bank and stepped in. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, letting the cold water flow over my pods, between my toes and up my heels. I walked slowly up the creek and through the woods all the way up to our back yard. I stepped carefully, avoiding rocks and walking through the sand at the bottom of the creek bed. Climbing the hill and crossing the back yard, I was never more thankful for all of the work my father had put into making the beautiful green grass grow. I vowed never to grumble about mowing the lawn again.
I went into the house and into my room. My penny loafers were still clean and shiny, which was not surprising since I had carried them most of the way. I did not want my mother to see my feet because I was certain that she would see them, flip out and take me up to see Aunt Hurricane. Aunt Hurricane was the pediatrician in Gresham Park. I loved Aunt Hurricane, but I was embarrassed to tell her my feet looked like hamburger meat because I had walked to the store in penny loafers with no socks.
I put the penny loafers in my closet, went into the bathroom and ran a tub of cold water. Locking the door behind me, I sat on the edge of the tub with my feet in the water until the swelling went down and the throbbing subsided. I toweled them off and surveyed the damage. There were two blisters on each big toe, one at the top and one on the inside. My two little toes had one each on the outside and my heels each had a big raw spot on the back. I put Blistex on the affected areas, wrapped my toes and covered each heel with Band-Aids and pulled on a pair of socks. I then hobbled back to my bedroom, turned on the little black and white television, fell on my bed and watched Rin Tin Tin. I never wore penny loafers without socks again.