My Father's Shoes

When I was young (a long long time ago) my father often promised me he would wear a pair of old penny loafers like these to dance at my wedding. If I remember correctly, the shoes were already worn and old, even when I was young. Over the years, he would show them to me and say, "I still have them," and we would laugh about it. I loved the idea. But I was a renegade and never really had a traditional wedding, where there were actual guests or dancing or a  party. And now those shoes are long gone.

Have I mentioned here on the blog that my father and mother loved to dance? In fact, they met at a dance on Valentine's Day in 1947. Music and dancing were an integral part of my childhood. So, my father's promises about dancing in those shoes were steeped in a tradition of cha chas, jitterbug, the two-step, and his graceful shimmying shoulders. When his first grand-daughter was born, he made her a promise. He showed her the shoes he planned to wear to her wedding and told her he was going to dance up a storm in them.

My father's shoes

After my father died more than 20 years ago, my sister Lynn saved several pairs of his shoes because those were some of the things that stirred our hearts. She saved them for her daughters' weddings. So, it came as no surprise that she brought these shoes to Corey's wedding last weekend and asked our older brother Marc to wear them and dance. He did. He danced with Corey. He danced with our mother. He danced and danced and danced the night away in them.

Later, Marc spoke to Corey's new husband. He said, "Chris, I am wearing my father's shoes, and I welcome you to the family." Chris was a bit taken aback, unsure if it was some kind of joke. So, Marc repeated it, and Chris got the full import of it. It was a warm and loving welcome to the family sent a long time ago.