When I was 18, I went to visit my brother who was in his mid 30's at the time. A family man and a guy who worked ridiculous hours chasing after the ever-elusive benchmark of success, I distinctly remember my brother had a propenceity to wear the lamest shoes when he wasn't working. You know the kind, docksiders, deck shoes, duck boots, and all forms of loafers. When I would openly question and mock his footwear of choice, he would said they were "comfortable". As an 18 year-old in the early 90's, I swore to myself that when I got his age, I would never wear such "comfortable" footwear. Didn't want disrupt the "cool".
It's also important to note, that I have never and will never own or wear flip-flops. There isn't a more useless excuse for a shoe on the plant than a flip-flop. Not only does the look not fit my conservative styling, I think they just send the wrong message. "Hey, look at me, I'm cool, care-free, and have no need for traction". No offense to flip-flop wearers, but I'll concede the fact that I'm not playing with a full deck of cards. It's the official shoe of hippies and people who like to make and display protest signs. Again, no offense; not wrong, just different. I have work to do and neither the flip or the flop is made for working.
When I went to college, I went through a preppie phase and fell in love with the Bass Weejun; penny-loafers to the lay person, shiny pennies and all. A lot of people experiment with different things in college and for me it was no different. So, I tried loafers a few times. I wasn't a hard core user, mostly just recreational and social use. I still love a weejun every now and again when the kid's aren't around. A weejun is still technically a dress shoe; suitable for the office, but it says you've got a playful side. In this preppie phase, I was known to buy entire color-coordinated outfits for an event. One-time, I was throwing an epic kegger at my townhouse off campus and for the event, I bought a pair of maroon plaid shorts and a maroon polo shirt to go with my loafers; no socks. The outfit and the party were great up until I rode over to a neighboring apartment complex with some of the lovely lady patrons at my party and ended up getting into a fight with 4-5 guys who were upset with either the snappy-ness of my outfit or the fact that I punched their buddy in the nose for kissing one of the girls, who happened to be dating my roommate and best friend at the time. To steal a joke from Ron White, I don't know how many of them it took to kick my ass, but I know how many they used. I will never forget having to walk back to my townhouse that night, missing a weejun, beaten up and bloody, and my outfit it tatters. I'm sure I got a couple of them, but it cost me a loafer. After that night, I swore off loafers for a long long while.
My first job out of college was a Project Engineer for a large commercial construction firm in Atlanta and my footwear alternated between work boots for the field and dress shoes for the office. Some times, I got them mixed up and ruined my share of dress shoes in the field and rugs in the office. Only the weekend days when I wasn't at the office were reserved for running shoes. I got married a few years out of school and someone tried to get me to try those athletic strap-on sandals and minivans, but I still had enough bravato to resist the peer pressure to just pack it in; give up. I became a Dad and stuck to my guns about sports sandals and mini-vans. Into my 30's and I still preferred to a good work boot or dress shoe to any sort of footweat malfeasance. I had dreams to reach, a family to support, and I was going to need some traction to get these things done. I've been tempted over these last few years with Crocs and the like, even bought a pair of New Balance running shoes without heels in them on a whim once; wore them once, felt ashamed of myself and put them at the back of the closet.
In roughly 6 months, I'm turning 40. That is a milestone age for a man. It's erases the line between young man and man and only leaves the grim reality of old man and death. I can longer stretch the truth about being in my "30's". Now, there are guys than can pull off a cool 40, like Clooney is still rocking it, but I am not one of those guys, not even close. And as the days and weeks pass into the rearview mirror on this path to 40, I find that my mind is obsessed with questions of whether or not I did it right. Have I worked hard enough? Have I loved enough? Have I provided for my family to a level that is acceptable in mind, in my defintion of what a Father and Husband owes to his family? Have I saved enough for the kid's college tuition? Have I saved anything for my retirement? And then there is the doubt. I have not doubted myself this much since, well, ever. I find myself doubting that I'm as good at my job as I should be at my age. I doubt that I've been the best husband; the one my wife deserves. I doubt that I've taken enough time to be a Father and I worry that college tuition payments will be replaced with Therapist bills for the kids. I doubt that I've been as good a son, brother, uncle, and friend as I could have been. Has life gone according to my plan; is this where I wanted to be when I reached 40? Is this the apex of life and if it is, have I done enough?
My mind has been wrestling with these thoughts and questions for months; not constantly or to the point where I leave my wife and family for a 20 year-old girlfriend, a convertible, and those funny-looking designer jeans with the fancy stitchting on the back pockets, but enough to make me re-evaluate some decisions I made, some paths I took, and the ones I didn't. In all of this introspection and retrospection it is clear that I made mistakes, fell short of the mark, and missed out on opportunities. I've also hit homeruns, exceeded my own expectations, and let a few marks along the way. Through all the twists and turns of life, all the joy and pain, the lessons, and the uncertainty, I stuck to my guns and I wore socks with my shoes everyday that I went to work. Now, when I work long hours and six day weeks, my body gets tired a little faster and is slower to recouperate. Burning the candle a both ends because a more daunting task when using one of those 2" candles versus the 8" stick candle. As I sat on the couch the other day thinking of all these things and taking a momentary respite, I looked down at my feet and started laugh to no one imparticular because there they were; not a conscious decision on my part, I suppose just a statement of life, maturity, and of pending questions: Comfortable Shoes.
No comments:
Post a Comment