BAREFOOT

Nothing feels better than the dewy grass on bare feet on a summer's morning. Who of us hasn't turned around to look at our "feet spots' in the grass? What child in us hasn't run down a dirt path, buried our toes in the sand, or picked up rocks with our toes?

I am remembering being at the lake in the early fifties and seeing my cousin stand at the water's edge and scream because the leeches were stuck to her feet. I learned to swim that summer, there were no leeches leeching at the end of the dock. Well, I learned that isn't really true but thought so at the time.

That same summer when I was about eight, mother allowed me painted toe nails. After a rest, she stated, I could paint my toe nails with her Revlon brand Queen of Diamonds OR Cherries in the Snow, both of which were hyper red. After all, ALL women painted their toe nails then--except maybe Grandma.

Everyone was outside when I woke up. I found the polish and began to paint....the toes, the toenails, and drip, drip, drip...on the floor. I had a mess. The beauty of it is, the polish will wear off the skin long before it wears off the toenails. It was a clumsy under taking and as I think about it now, it seems like the brush control was as if I was using a four inch brush. Nah....I am not going to paint my toes today. Well.........not red, at least.


We all know when we must wear shoes and when we don't have to. There didn't used to be signs saying "No shoes, no shirt, no service." We didn't need to have someone tell us that. Personally, I also knew that when I rode horse back in a saddle I must wear boots so my foot wouldn't slip through the open stirrup or just shoes if the stirrup was closed. Although when riding bareback, I was barefoot.

Although I didn't seem to get the picture about being barefoot around old barns and chicken coops and what happens when you step on a nail. Tetanus shot? Heaven's no! Soak and soak in Ebson salts until the pain goes away, (which is always at night).


Imagine how fun it was to live in Kansas were one could be bare foot nearly all year. Imagine going to the zoo over the fourth of July and walking around on the asphalt barefooted and praying for puddles to cool one's feet!


Imagine your mother, being mostly concerned about your callused feet before delivery of your first child and soaking your feet in oil to get them 'pretty'.


I was looking through photo albums of late and was surprised at how many pictures there are with my children bare footed. HOWEVER, I am happy to announce all of the poses with bikes they were properly shod.


As for Fargo and barefoot, well, it just doesn't work. It is too cold too often and since I have NO interest in yard work, I am not outdoors unless I am off the property.

I liked to fish without shoes. Actually, I used to fish barefooted until that day when, on a little lake fly fishing into a school of sunnies, a swarm of deer flies attack my feet. I spent the rest of the expedition with my feet in the pee bucket-- with water only--to try to get the sting pain to subside. My feet were bumpy from multiple bites. I had no choice but to take something for it which made me power sleep.

Now, ten years later, I wear shoes, socks, long pants, long sleeves, and a hat. This is a freckle, this is an age spot, and these are the wrinkles from the reflection of the sun on the side of my face. As I walk the path to the harbor, I think about other old ladies I had seen when I was young. I wondered why they covered themselves so completely when they were in the sun. I wonder now if they were speckled and freckled and their skin was as frazzled and marked as mine. Go figure.

Barefooted memories as I walk out of this essay in old lady sandals.

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