Before Slice of Life, we shared notebook entries on Two Writing Teachers. This was my first post on Two Writing Teachers.

June 12, 2007

I’m not sure how important they are in my life, and I’m not sure how much of an artifact they are, but something that I seem to have an obsession about is red shoes. I have — well, I’m not going to admit how many pairs — let’s just leave it at quite a few. There’s my red boots — I love the click click clack of them. I just remembered that they’re almost worn out, so I bought a new pair of red boots this past winter. Very trendy. I have red sandles that I wear all summer long (not the same pair, mind you — but always, always red). And of course, red leather mules and redMary Janes. I don’t, however, have any red heels, not any more anyway.

I’m thinking to myself, I can’t believe I’m writing about red shoes on my very first post. Honestly, people are going to think I’m a complete airhead. But there is meaning behind these shoes. Of all the artifacts I could have chosen to write about, why red shoes? The answer is quite simple: My dad.
Growing up, my dad would moan about red shoes — I wasn’t “allowed” to have them. Dad had various reasons for this rule, none made much sense. So, for my junior prom, I chose a reddress and (you guessed it) red shoes (these were the heels). I chose this because first and foremost I love red. However, the ulterior motive was to get what I wasn’t allowed. Red shoes. Dad couldn’t argue. It was prom and Mom bought them for me.

And she still buys me red shoes today. In fact, most of the afore mentioned red shoes were bought for me by Mom. I’m wondering if the red shoes bring back memories for her too. I wonder if they bring back memories for Dad. I bet they do. Memories of his mom, my grandma, who had shoes in every color imaginable, but many, many, many in the shade of red. In fact, she still wears red shoes today. The older I get, the more I see her in me. Perhaps Dad does too. But that is another entry.

Vintage Slice