On long-standing relationships

I'm not someone you'd call a shoe fancier, so when I find footwear I do like, I tend to stick with it -- for a really long time. These sandals have been with me through five cities in the last eight years. They've had three sets of new heels, one set of new soles, and tons and tons of miles under them.

I'd been looking for a long time for replacements and hadn't found anything I liked (much to my mother's dismay -- "Can't you just throw those away?" she kept asking after about Year Six, when the soles had to be relined to keep them from scraping the balls of my feet). But without a successor for my wardrobe staple, I couldn't really justify tossing them. And they still did their job and were more comfortable for walking than any other sandals I had. Never mind the stitching that was coming out, the cracking leather, the fact that the straps had stretched enough for them to be a pedestrian hazard ...

Then two weeks ago, I happened upon this version of the style while I was running errands. I knew as soon as picked them up from the display table that my old pair was doomed. I took D to see them when he was visiting and he confirmed the worst: they were perfect.


These have a slightly higher heel and a dressier look, but they'll serve the same purpose. So it's time to say goodbye to my faithful friends. It's amazing how many major events in my life these shoes have witnessed: college graduation, starting my first job, starting my second job, my honeymoon, a cross-country road trip. They almost need to go into the "family museum" -- a collection of retired objects my sisters and I have saved from the garbage because of their long history in our lives. Included among these are a wooden spoon my mother used to scoop rice with (washed so many times that it was on the verge of cracking because it had gotten so thin), a white plastic one-cup measure we used to use every Sunday when making pizza (the bottom broke), and the comb my dad used on his hair every morning for at least thirty years (a gift from his mother before college -- I think it either lost too many teeth or snapped in two).

The store didn't have my size in the new sandals, so I ordered a pair. They arrived this week, so now there's really no excuse for hanging on to the old ones anymore. Eyes, look your last! Oh, silly sentiment. In honor of favorite things past their prime, check out these verses by Jack Prelutsky (wonderful children's poet). He knew what he was talking about.