My Father's Shoes

New Basketball Shoes, a photo by []Aaroneous Monk[] on Flickr.

I found them in the back of my father's closet amongst a litter of 70's style above-the-ankle leather shoes with side zippers. To be fair to my Dad, it was the 70's and I was seven years old. Above my head hung what seemed to be hundreds of polyester suits and a rack of ties, each wide enough to prevent any food from reaching a shirt front. In those younger days I had a habit of exploring every nook and cranny of the house when my parents were otherwise occupied, certain that I'd find something of interest that had been hither to hidden from me. And, by gum, I found just such a thing that day.

I picked one of them up and turned it in my hand to look at it from different angles, heck, I may have even smelled it. It was not like the others and it did not seem connected to my father who was a preacher from a very conservative denomination that was always on the lookout for signs of "worldliness." Its function and appearance did not include anything remotely Sunday-go-to-meetin' and had me not a little scandalized, but exhilarated all the same. What was it? Well, I can only say in retrospect what I did not know at that time. It was a bona fide black canvas Chuck Taylor All Star high top tennis shoe.

This was a part of my father that was a mystery to me at that time. He traveled a lot for his weekday job as a carpet salesman and oftentimes got home late. On Sunday mornings and Sunday evenings, as well as on Wednesday nights, he was preaching. The first time I really saw him in action was when he had invited another pastor from the same denomination to bring some of his church members over to play a full on game at the basketball court situated on a corner of the town square.

They all wore short sleeve buttoned shirts and long pants, not t-shirts and shorts which were deemed too worldly. They had to be a witness to anyone that might pass by and plainly see that they were of a different sort. The Chuck Taylors made an appearance that night on my father's feet for the first time since my discovery. I watched him shuck and jive around that court, run from end to end, and throw up several Bob Cousy style running hook shots. It made me deliriously happy and proud.

Now I am forty four years old and I have a son who just turned nine. This evening we bought him his first pair of high top tennis shoes for basketball season which starts this Sunday afternoon. Seeing those black Nike high tops in front of his closet tonight brought back that memory of a thrilling discovery in the back of my father's closet all of those years ago. And it made me deliriously happy and proud.