Ben Sloot

With Father’s Day approaching I’ve found myself reminiscing on the glorious days of summers from my childhood. Pools, grills, and grass stains.

Specifically, grass stains on my father’s shoes.

THE SHOES

Dad shoes have become a cliche; the stereotypical white New Balance sneakers.

Wrong. A master of dad style in the late 80’s, my father wore low-top white Reebok’s with the tiniest hints of green trim. I swear my dad had a hundred pairs of those sneakers, because it’s all I can picture him wearing in warm weather.

He wasn’t delicate with his foot ware like people are today. Heavy creases marked the toe bridge and the only time they were pure white was when he tried them on in the shoe store…

I maintain that nothing illustrates the wider generational gap between Baby Boomers and Millenials than the fact my dad mowed the lawn in crisp white shoes. I couldn’t literally fill my father’s shoes. In a cruel twist of fate I’m 4 inches shorter than him (still above 6 feet) and a couple shoe sizes smaller as well.

THE METAPHOR

Metaphorically, I wonder if I’ll fill my father’s shoes every time I think back to all the great memories from growing up.

Of course, memories are like social media. People post the big stuff on social media and people remember super specific snapshots but reality is much more mundane. Looking back, filling my dad’s shoes means living consistently, day in day out for the kiddo even in the mundane. Besides nothing is mundane for a year-and-a-half old.

Big shoes to fill indeed… Even if I’m not ready to fill those shoes, I can at least copy the style, minus the grass stains.