Red shoes

I've just been reading an interesting blog called Like the Wrench and the Cracker. The author wears size 11 shoes and, as a result, has her relatives and close friends on notice to buy any cute pair of red shoes they run across. She has also taken to ebay -- and no wonder -- no one location is going to have sufficient red shoes, now are they?

She listed the five or six kinds of red shoes (sandals, boots) she owns and went on to question whether the wearing of them is sufficient to make up for the absence of anonymity while in a bathroom stall at work. Her comments reminded me of my friend Jack, who used to work at a law firm. One day I saw him on his way to the office, all gussied up in suit, tie, and red tennis shoes. When he noticed me noticing, he said, "I know it's going to be a rough day today, so I'm wearing these shoes to keep my spirits up."

Well, that would be the point of red shoes, wouldn't it? To keep your spirits up. To let your heart sing a little bit. To remind yourself that, while God may count every hair on your head, you're really not important enough for the color of your shoes to wreck anything that matters. Which led me to wonder how my world would be different if I'd worn red shoes every day for ... oh, pick a number ... the last ten years.

And what about you?

This exercise is similar to the question of who I'd be now if my parents had named me Alcott (on the one hand) or Tiffany (on the other). The name question, though, gives agency to other people. The red-shoe question gives agency to you, yourself. That's where the energy lies. That's where the traction lies. So spill some of that energy-traction on the page and see where it takes you.

Let me know, if you'd like. I'm curious.