Pappy learned to polish leather footwear in the army during WWII. His commander would demand that his boots be so lustrous he could see his reflection in their black sheen. Pappy’s shoe-shining education didn’t end there, however. His biggest revelation came around 5:00AM one morning when he noticed an airport shoe shiner heating his wax with a blow dryer for a smoother application – the approach would prove to be a game-changer.
If you haven’t guessed it yet, the man I’m affectionately referring to as Pappy is, in fact, my grandfather. Pappy played a very big part in my upbringing, and I count myself fortunate that he’s still a huge part of my life. I remember as a child thinking he performed magic on my schoolgirl shoes each time I saw them shining like they were new from the box. I’ve always taken an interest in and had great appreciation for his methods. From this stemmed my constant inclination to care for and look after my things, the way he does. Growing up, when my friends would show off their new shoes I would take pride in the fifteenth, or even twentieth, “restoration” of my current pair. Each session with Pappy felt like I was finishing a chapter in the story of those shoes, and turning the page to start the next one.
After high school, I could finally lose the lace-ups and began wearing work boots more or less twenty-four/seven. My footwear may have changed, but every time fall rolled around with the threat of salt and slush looming, I’d bring my boots over to Pappy’s for a proper buffing. On the rare occasion that I brought a pair of shoes or boots to the cobbler’s for repair, they used to shine them afterwards, but it was never the same as when he did it. Whenever I told him that, he simply smiled and replied that it “must be the love they’re missing”.
To many people, the act of shining shoes may seem mundane or even insignificant. But this small gesture my grandfather has been making for me for over sixteen years now has become a meaningful tradition between just the two of us, one that I will always cherish alongside my fondest memories. Just walking out of his house wearing freshly waxed boots, gives my step an extra kick of confidence. Maybe he’s got a magic touch after all.
Twelve-year-old tomboys and dress shoes don’t jive too well. While pacing the pristine halls of my all-girl Catholic high school, my delicate leather lace-ups would squeak along the floor in nervous anticipation of the end-of-day bell. Once I was free I subjected them to hours of abuse in the park and the woods until supper. By dinnertime, my shoes were covered in the markings of rock jumping and tree-climbing, sometimes with a bit of mud thrown in for good measure. Fortunately for me, and for my shoes, there was always Pappy.
Pappy learned to polish leather footwear in the army during WWII. His commander would demand that his boots be so lustrous he could see his reflection in their black sheen. Pappy’s shoe-shining education didn’t end there, however. His biggest revelation came around 5:00AM one morning when he noticed an airport shoe shiner heating his wax with a blow dryer for a smoother application – the approach would prove to be a game-changer.
If you haven’t guessed it yet, the man I’m affectionately referring to as Pappy is, in fact, my grandfather. Pappy played a very big part in my upbringing, and I count myself fortunate that he’s still a huge part of my life. I remember as a child thinking he performed magic on my schoolgirl shoes each time I saw them shining like they were new from the box. I’ve always taken an interest in and had great appreciation for his methods. From this stemmed my constant inclination to care for and look after my things, the way he does. Growing up, when my friends would show off their new shoes I would take pride in the fifteenth, or even twentieth, “restoration” of my current pair. Each session with Pappy felt like I was finishing a chapter in the story of those shoes, and turning the page to start the next one.
After high school, I could finally lose the lace-ups and began wearing work boots more or less twenty-four/seven. My footwear may have changed, but every time fall rolled around with the threat of salt and slush looming, I’d bring my boots over to Pappy’s for a proper buffing. On the rare occasion that I brought a pair of shoes or boots to the cobbler’s for repair, they used to shine them afterwards, but it was never the same as when he did it. Whenever I told him that, he simply smiled and replied that it “must be the love they’re missing”.
To many people, the act of shining shoes may seem mundane or even insignificant. But this small gesture my grandfather has been making for me for over sixteen years now has become a meaningful tradition between just the two of us, one that I will always cherish alongside my fondest memories. Just walking out of his house wearing freshly waxed boots, gives my step an extra kick of confidence. Maybe he’s got a magic touch after all.