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Probably
my favorite footwear during my entire childhood had to have been my purple leather
Western boots with bright yellow stitching. They were a present from my Uncle
Clint, my mother's brother, who worked for the Missouri Pacific Railroad at that
time. He regularly went down to Harlingen,
TX on his "runs" and I'm sorry to say I don't remember what his job entailed.
He worked for them for only a couple of years before settling into marriage, fatherhood
and a job with the city bus company in Beaumont,
my hometown.
I was about 3 or 4 and my brother Butch a year older when
Uncle Clint came to our house at the end of a run with two pairs of the most beautiful
little leather boots I never knew I had pined for my entire short life. It seems
he had gone across into Mexico while he was staying over down in the Valley and
had these little beauties hand made in a shoe shop. I don't know how he knew our
sizes, though probably he asked my mother, or maybe he drew around our feet on
pieces of paper. I only know they were perfect fits. Butch's feet were a little
bigger than mine, but the stitched patterns were identical on each pair. I wish
I could remember the pattern. I think maybe it was a softened thunderbird outline,
of a "kinder and gentler" shape for kids. I loved those boots the way a kid loves
a favorite stuffed bear or special toy. The smooth leather was a bright, intense
purple (think Taco Bell restaurant trim) and the stitching was, well, screaming
canary yellow. We had our woven straw cowboy hats, courtesy of our Grandpa, and
lived in these boots almost every day, all day long playing Cowboys and Indians,
commandeering Mama's broom for use as a stick horse and galloping around the yard
for miles. It was a constant battle to convince us we couldn't wear our boots
to Sunday School or church, and under no circumstances could I wear them with
my dresses.
All things considered, I had the best of the deal. When we
outgrew them, I inherited Butch's pair and had double the enjoyment. I loved my
time spent as a high plains drifter, though more accurately I guess we were coastal
cowpokes or piney woods punchers. A day in the saddle rounding up crawfish when
it rained and the next door neighbor's Cocker Spaniels was hard work.
©
Frances Giles
"True Confessions and Mild Obsessions"
October 19, 2012 Column
Related Topics: Beaumont
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