In the fall of 2001 my mother bought me a pair of new sneakers from the Converse outlet in Pidgeon Forge, thinking I’d get around to needing them at some point. Little did she know that I had switched to boots already.
Well, as of a few weeks ago in a rather bad rainstorm, my treasured, oft-mentioned boots are dead. They just barely died before the Vivian thing.
I already had new boots, but they were “nice.” I needed new shoes for tromping around in the woods playing disc golf, kickball, and whatever else. So, from the back of my closet in Japser, where they had been placed after we moved from Canton, I brought them out. The shoes. From 2001. They had never been worn.
This is what the box looked like after I dusted it.
They don’t look any worse for having sat around for so long. Obviously not the hip new style, but they probably weren’t when they were new either. They’ll suffice.
I’ve not worn a pair of tennis shoes since 2002 or so. Maybe early 2003. Regardless, I’ve been wearing boots and Birkenstocks so long that putting these on made my feet look and feel smaller than they really are.
They already got muddy on Sunday. Their life will be hard, as their only purpose is to serve me when I’m in the wilderness.