Lenten Reflections #36
“What color is this?” my 90-year-old Dad asked sitting on the edge of a plastic chair pulling out a round, black tin with the words “KIWI” written across the top.
“Black” I said. He placed it carefully in the box and pulled out another
“This one?”
“Black”.
“This one?”
“Black”.
“Dad gummit! I need brown. I can’t see these.” Dad’s macular degeneration is causing a slow decline of his vision. “The doctor said I’d lose 75% of my vision. But that’s okay. We can do this.” He said it like we were all looking through his eyes, only seeing the small disk of polish with blurry words on top.
I reached in the old shoe shine kit outfitted with a horse hair brush, several circle tins of polish and a neatly folded rag.
“Here, Dad. I know this is brown, I remember getting it at a yard sale for you.”
He chuckled and smiled. “A yard sale.” He echoed my words and sounded like he was remembering an old friend.
Dad loves yard sales, going to them, holding them, talking about them. When Mom and Dad were younger they would hit up the “Free piles” at sales. Broken chairs, old trunks, tables, and unfinished quilts were saved and given new lives. Together, they would repair, upholster, stain, paint, stitch and clean each item readying them for their new owners. Then every summer we would have a family yard sale. He loved visiting and bargaining with people, sometimes being jokey and saying things like, “$4.00? That’s way to much to pay us, how about $2?”
Dad reached in the dark stained wooden shoe shine box, and pulled out a small bottle of liquid shoe shine.
“What color?” He asked.
“Black. Would you like me to do the soles?”
“Sure.” He said. He sighed, rubbing the polish on the brown leather shoes. “When I shined shoes in Barrelas (his childhood neighborhood), I charged 15¢. Yup, 15¢ and a few times customers gave me a quarter and for change, I didn’t have change!”
“Well, what did you do?” I asked.
“I ran!!” Then I’d hear, “I’m going to tell your dad!” The words trailing off in the distance.
Dad squeezed and globbed the brown liquid on the shoes and it dripped on the patio floor. “How does it look?”
“Like new!” I said. pulling the red, vintage brush from the box and buffing them one shoe at a time.
“I used to love polishing my shoes. Still do actually.”
What I Learned:
Listen to their stories. Objects jog our memories and stories hold us all together. Remember to take pride in your shoes and keep them shiny.
Thanks for joining me.
I’m so glad you’re here,
Lucretia
runonmom.com 