In Memoriam

My Black Boots

April 22, 2007 - August 26, 2009

In the entire time that I have known you, you were a magnificent pair of shoes. You were pretty reliable - at least up until that time a hole appeared in the left shoe - but what I will remember most is how cool-looking you were. So cool! You looked unlike any other shoe I had ever worn or seen, yet you were not flashy nor obnoxious. There was truly a subtle greatness about you. Truth be told, you were actually quite simple in appearance, just a regular old pair of black rubber boots with blue trims. But because of this simplicity I was able to wear you with just about any outfit. You always added a kick (I would “haha! puns!” but that is inappropriate) to my wardrobe, and for that I am grateful.


We had a lot of great times together, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t really love you at the beginning. I can still remember the day I first met you - Earth Day, 2007. I stopped by Buffalo Exchange to kill some time before my piano lesson and there was a sale going on. Lots of items for just a dollar or two. Even some shoes were just a dollar! You were two of those shoes. When I saw you crammed between two pairs of lightly used sandals, I thought “Well, those look interesting. I don’t have any boots, maybe I should buy them. They’re only a dollar! Then again, they do look kind of worn, and it would be more practical to get those sandals as I do live in a desert. BUT, they look kind of neat. And they’re only a dollar! Oh what the hell, ratty old boots it is! Practicality be damned!” I didn’t even bother trying you on because I wasn’t wearing socks.

I soon realized that you were a great pair of shoes. Every time I wore you, I liked you a little bit more. I received a lot of compliments about you; someone would say “I like your boots, Lauren!” or “Cool boots! Where’d you get those?” and I would go “Thanks! Thrift store!” and then they might ask “So what kind of shoes are they?” and I would say “I dunno. There’s no label but it says ‘Made in Korea’ on the bottom!” Ah, so many memories, Boots!

Here are some more memories:

• I was really excited to have rain boots because I thought they would be perfect for running around in the rain and jumping in puddles. Our first summer together I said “Man, I can’t wait until it rains and I can jump in puddles with these boots on!” a lot of times, but it took me a while to get to do that because of the terrible non-existent weather conditions in Arizona. Probably our most memorable rain time was in DC, actually. It was our third or fourth weekend here and there was a huge storm, after which we ran around campus with some friends (my friends, not your friends, you are just a pair of shoes, an inanimate object, really), looking for the biggest puddles (parking lot!). You protected my feet from getting soaked. Thanks!

• While I was making the transition from living in Arizona to living in DC I had a lot of packages shipped to me. They were full of things I hadn’t had room for in my luggage - bulky items, and forgotten peanut butter jars. One of these packages contained you, Boots. I think it was the last package to arrive here, weeks after my relocation. This was because my mother was reluctant to ship you, or in any way aid in my wearing of you. She always had a strong aversion to you. I never understood why. Oh sure, there was a lot of “They’re so ugly! PLEASE let me throw them out! For heaven’s sake, I’ll buy you a new pair!” but I think, deep down, she was just jealous. Same with Diana. I don’t recall either of them every having a pair of boots like mine . . .

• There was also that time when I went to the zoo with Omar during Spring Break. The day had started out promising, but it started to drizzle a bit by the afternoon. We figured it would still be okay to visit the zoo; it was just a little rain, not much, and besides, I had my rain boots! I would be okay! NO. A few hours later, and my entire left foot was soaked and freezing. I thought, “Well that’s weird, my right foot is perfectly dry. I wonder how that happened!” It wasn’t until later that I realized there was a mammoth-sized hole in the heel of the left shoe. MAMMOTH-sized (how I hadn’t noticed it before then is beyond me. All the signs were there: mysteriously sudden moistness in the left shoe, a strangely imbalanced ratio of pebbles-to-shoe. But I guess I don’t look at the bottom of my shoes often enough).

Now, some people might say that when you find a MAMMOTH-SIZED hole in your shoe you should probably throw it out, especially since the pair of shoes it belongs to only cost one dollar to begin with. But those people would be wrong, and you should not listen to them. I continued to wear you, Boots, for a good five months after finding said hole. Five months! I just couldn’t bear to thoughtlessly toss you away; you were my favorite pair of shoes! So, I kept wearing you, but from then on I was very careful to avoid puddles, mud, sandy beaches, and gravel. And that worked out just fine!

At least, until five days ago. I was walking, rather hurriedly, to my aunt and uncle’s house to pick up some luggage when I noticed the heel was slipping out the back of the right shoe, creating several large openings. This was highly distressing. When I arrived at their house, I asked my cousin Max if I could borrow some duct tape, perhaps black duct tape if possible. Lo and behold! there was black duct tape in the kitchen. I shoved the heel back in the shoe and taped up the holes. I also covered the mammoth-sized hole in the left shoe. As I was fixing them up, I thought, “Well this isn’t going to last for long. But I just can’t throw them away without doing everything I possibly can to try and fix them! I will keep wearing them until they fall apart, even more than they already have.”

I kept wearing you, Boots, until you fell apart, even more than you already had. That was two days ago. The heel kept popping out, and I realized the duct tape wasn’t going to cut it. I was forced to admit that that wasn’t going to work. Not then, not ever. You were dead. I was sad.

I miss you, Boots. You were truly one of a kind.