I’m wearing my new Doc Martens today. Black leather, yellow stitching, AirWair tag. They squeak when I walk, so I googled “how to make new doc martens stop squeaking”. I discovered this squeak is a known issue; many boot forums provided methods to lessen the embarrassing noise. The most consistent advice I found was like most things in life — “give it time”.
The summer I turned 13 was one of the longest summers of my life. I’m 40 now and still in memory that 1994 summer stretches out to a dull year. My mom was in bed (depressed I now know), my dad worked long 12-14 hour days and my 10 year old sister and I cared for our three younger siblings. In my head, I pretended my mom had cancer. I thought if she did maybe someone would notice and help us. I didn’t know what depression was.
For my birthday in August, my dad said I could to Payless Shoe Store and pick out anything I wanted under twenty dollars. I was giddy with excitement and planned my outfit from my limited wardrobe for days in advance. It would be my first time away from our house in months! And without the kids!
We arrived at the shoe store and I quickly picked out a pair of fake Doc boots. Black, chunky heels and only $13 - well within the budget!
My dad pulled me aside near the back of an aisle. Somber, serious, shaking his head. “You can’t get those. Those are like shoes that prostitutes wear.”
(Stupid tears in public rubbing my eyes looking for a more modest shoe. A dull black masculine narrow skinny-laced dress shoe received dad’s approving nod. And those were my shoes for the next few years.)