Farewell, My Docs
Recently, I had to let go of a beloved pair of brown Doc Marten hiking boots. These boots were a full eight years old, and they had been worn so many times that the once-stiff side panels were all slouchy. When you looked at them sitting together on the floor, they seemed to be scrunching up their little noses, as if repelled by their own increasingly pungent stench. This was just part of their working class charm. However, it wasn't long before the smell and the slouchiness got to be too much, so, with a heavy heart, I solemnly threaded up the Docs with the best laces I had—the funky leopard print ones—and placed them out beside our dumpster.
The dumpster fairy took them, I'm assuming, because the next morning they were gone.
As a sort of tribute, I have compiled a far-from-comprehensive list of the most memorable events, both personal and public, through which my veteran Docs remained steadfast and true. I am forever grateful for their years of support.
My Doc Martens' most memorable events (cue Samuel Barber's "Adagio for Strings"):
1. Survived Karen's trip to Cleveland.
2. Worked through the fear of being supplanted by younger, more fashionable Docs.
3. Figured out the difference between soul music and sole music, and that the latter doesn't actually exist except as a weird metaphor.
4. Found comfort in the writings of Nietzsche after results of 2000 election.
5. Enjoyed 1996 summer Olympics, especially that little firecracker, Kerri Strug.
6. Noted implementation of the euro, although not yet in the Great Homeland.
7. Survived Karen's trip to the Great Homeland. Let go of sweet, suffocating nostalgia, and chose to embrace being American.
8. Plodded through marshlands south of town, fully submerged, and gained firsthand knowledge that soggy leather is not always an "upper."
9. Nearly lost shoelace in the vacuum cleaner, but held on because you never leave a lace behind.
10. Kept scrapbook documenting meteoric rise of singing duo the White Stripes, with the suspicion that they were somehow affiliated with Adidas shoes.
11. Experienced brief, electric affair with silver "Millennium" Docs, until they were moved to the other closet and love was forever lost.
12. Survived Karen's trip to St. Louis. Experienced arch envy.
Requiescat in pace. Good night, sweet Docs. And flights of angels sing thee to thy shoe rest.
Comments are closed.
Comments have been closed for this post.