You’re probably thinking. “What! Another piece on “Use it up, wear it out…” I don’t think anyone would dispute that it was time for some new boots; it wouldn’t take much of a talker to make the case that it was well past time. If “use it up, wear it out” was the mission, consider it accomplished. But what this bit is really about is footsteps.
I wrote about another pair of well- loved, well-used shoes a while back. (January 10, 2021, These Shoes Were Made for Walkin’… And Waiting Around) They belonged to my father. These belong to my son. When I made this connection between elder and younger, I was feeling a little left out by the generation skipping. Then I remembered. Many years ago my hiking boots lost their sole on a rocky trail in New Zealand. It had been strongly suggested that I get new boots before starting out, but that seemed rash. Surely they had one more hike in them. You’ll have to take my word on this as there is no photographic evidence. This was long enough ago that picture-taking required film, chemicals and a darkroom so we were a lot more discriminating about what we snapped.
My boots fell apart on the last few miles on the last day of the hike. But it turned out fine. A few wraps with duct tape keep the soles attached just long enough. And the best part of the boots dying when they did is that they went in the trash and freed up some packing space. In their place, I brought home a still-loved sweater. In New Zealand, where sheep outnumber humans, merino wool is abundant. And so are possums. The clever Kiwis figured out that blending possum fur (with its hollow core like that of polar bears) with merino wool makes for a warm, durable and desirable niche product.
I have not been disappointed by the sweater. And as important as it is to remember to use it up and wear it out that’s not the theme today. This story is about of the confluence of soleful and soulful and the comfort of having good footsteps to follow.