My First Pair of Nike Shoes

It all started in the 3rd grade. We were shopping at the usual Payless for a new pair of shoes, a rare and momentous occasion for me. I had resigned myself to the fact that I would never in my life obtain a pair of name brand shoes, a la Nike, Adidas, etc. so I had to find the most discreet pair of "Pro Wings-Eagles" available to hopefully just mesh in with crowd. I found a nice pair that were pretty much straight black; they could've been mistaken as any brand, right? Wrong. . . my dad finds a pair of $6 clearance shoes, silver and neon orange, with velcro straps, and announces he has found my new pair of shoes. If you couldn't guess, I cried that night.

It took months of convincing friends at school that I didn't pick my shoes voluntarily. Rather, they had been forced upon me; a cruel reminder that I lived in a dictatorship, not a democracy.

Springtime came, and as my feet were growing ever so slightly, I started to scour the weekly Sunday newspaper ads looking for a deal on new shoes so as to get rid of the velcros, still worn daily as if wearing a scarlet letter that screamed, "I am a loser!" Then came the night of reckoning. . . a night that changed my future forever.

I had found the pair of my tempered dreams. Like I said above, anything Nike, Adidas (my favorite two brands) was out of the question. The new dream was just to get something with laces. I found a Fred Meyer ad that advertised some McGregor's (FREAKING McGregor's for crying out loud! Does anybody even recognize that brand? I didn't think so!) for under $20. I took the ad over to my mother (avoiding dad at all costs of course) hoping she could pick them up for me and face the wrath of my father herself. I even offered to accept the shoes as next year's school shoes in advance.

"Whaaaaaat!!!!!!!!" My father came in, eavesdropping on my plea to my mother. I was too late, I had committed the unpardonable sin; being ungrateful for my 8-month-old-neon-orange-velco-$6 excuse of shoes. "You don't like the shoes we get for you, fine! From now on you will buy all of your own shoes and clothes!"

Tears flew freely to the pillow that night. I can't remember breaking down that hard for that long before or since. Was I so upset that I peed the bed that night? I don't know. It could've happened. I don't really remember. It was a long night of suffering, that's all I can say.

My current employment situation was as such: $2 a week for vacuuming and washing both our truck and our minivan. Not exactly employment that I would call gainful. My grandparents came to the rescue and offered to have me mow the lawn once a week. The original deal was $5/week, but the envelope each week seemed to gradually climb until it hit a consistent $10/week. $10/week about 3 1/2 months worth of summer to get enough money saved to buy next year's school clothes. At the end of the summer (after tithing of course:) ) I had about $100, I and knew exactly what I was going to do with it.

The shoes were at the Shopko there in Sandy on 9400 South. $50 for Nike high-tops, white and hot pink (ok so I still had some "neon" shoes. This was the early 90's). Every time I would go in to Shopko I would go make sure they were still there. I had waited all summer for this moment; the moment my tempered dreams vanished and I achieved the ultimate dream of Nikes. (The words of the Sandlot if you will. . . "Shoes guaranteed to make a kid run faster and jump higher. PF Flyers" but in my case of course Nikes). I admit a short sense of hesitation as I realized that I was dropping 1/2 of my summer's savings on a pair of shoes with still pants, shirts, etc. to buy, but only a moment of hesitation. It was one of the most glorious moments of my young life. I have a picture in my scrapbook from my first day of fourth grade, and every time I see those shoes I smile, knowing I was heading to school in style (the MC Hammer pants worn in that picture remind me I was actually not heading in style, but I digress).

Ever since that first summer right before I turned 10 I have bought all of my own clothes, shoes, etc. I have always said all growing up that I would never make my kids wear shoes they didn't want to wear, the cost be damned. Interestingly enough, as an adult I rarely buy shoes because I'm so cheap now that I don't want to shell out $50 for shoes, but I refuse to buy the cheap shoes as a matter of principle from my young experience. (Sidenote: I'll buy any clothes from anywhere. I'm not "above" any shirts, pants, etc. from any store. I'm just weird about shoes).

So there we were this morning at Famous Footwear, looking at a pair of $25 shoes on the clearance rack for Cannon. Rachel had a couple coupons so they were $10 off, in the end making them comparable to any Payless-priced shoe. I was having a hard time swallowing dropping any amount of money for shoes that will be worn for only a few months before he grows out of them (hmmm, sounds familiar). All Rachel had to do was remind me, "Didn't you say you would always let your kids wear nice shoes no matter what because you were so mad about it when you were a kid?" Once she brought that up, the shoes could've been $100, we were getting them. I was a few weeks shy of my 10th birthday when I got my first pair of Nikes, Cannon is a week after his first birthday and only a few weeks into walking. He kept the shoes on all day. I told Rachel it was because he knew he was walking around in style.