"Well, I can see by your footwear [barefoot w/ sandals]," commented the Lady Marjorie rather snidely, "that you've now assumed your Memorial Day-through-Labor Day costume.
"You know," she added, "even though it's technically summer, there are times that you can wear something a little more formal than those old sandals."
"What's wrong with my sandals?" I asked. "I think that they're pretty cool, and besides, they're a lot more comfortable than some pair of sweaty ol' tennis shoes. And as for not being formal, I once wore sandals with a tuxedo."
"G'wan!"
"When I was just a little kid, about when I was only 4 or 5 years old, my aunt Marilyn got married, and they selected me to be the ring bearer. I remember they took me someplace that rented minuscule tuxedos and outfitted me with a monkey suit, but they didn't have any shoes that small."
"And you didn't have any shoes at home?"
"Not that were black," I answered. "And remember, I was only 4 or 5; I could be pretty stubborn when I was a little kid.
"My father ended up dyeing the red sandals, that I wore all the time, black. Then I wore a pair of black socks with them, and everything was copasetic. I carried the rings on a satin pillow, and some little girl walked beside me scattering flower petals. Besides, everybody was looking at the bride. No one was looking at my feet."
My partner should be glad that she didn't know me during the period when I was living down in sunny California. I first discovered beach thongs when I was in the third or fourth grade.
My family was invited to go water-skiing with some people my father worked with, and the guy who owned the inboard speedboat wore nothing else on his feet the whole time that we were there. I was impressed.
During the next year, the sandals began to appear in all the local import shops, and we found them ideal to wear around the pool.
They were called all sorts of names: Zories (I have no idea where that came from); flip-flops (makes sense); go-aheads (you could back right out of them); or simply thongs.
It seemed like I lived in thongs from the moment school got out in June until the time we finally had all been corralled that September and headed back to school. That is, if I had to wear footwear at all; during California summers, I spent what seemed to be weeks nothing but barefoot.
As I aged a few years, the summer beach thongs gave way to an authentic pair of huaraches. These were Mexican sandals that had become part of the accepted "surfer" uniform-along with bleached hair, a Pendleton wool plaid shirt, a surfboard-manufacturer T-shirt and wheat-colored jeans. The sandals had a sole made out of a piece of old tire tread, and I put many miles on my pair.
So what does the modern sandal offer the consumer nowadays? When a few years ago I started kayaking seriously, I was introduced to a state-of-the-art, hi-tech sandal developed by some Colorado River runners.
These new sandals feature a molded rubber sole with arch support, and waterproof nylon straps with Velcro closures. They are the most comfortable things I now put on my feet.
I wear them everywhere, and seriously dread any time I'm forced to put on a painful pair of shoes again.
Thankfully, here in the Northwest, it's only the rare snowstorm that will get me out of them.
When the weather begins to really cool off, well into September, I'll just pull on a heavy pair of wool socks.
The socks-and-sandals image definitely fits right in with the gray ponytail I'm growing for my 60th birthday.
Gary McDaniel is a sandal-loving freelance writer living in Magnoila.[[In-content Ad]]
