I Hate Saddle Shoes

It's funny how looking back on your life there are some memories that stay with you so profoundly, they only get stronger.

It was the summer before I was in 6th grade. Our family went to a picnic given by the bar owner of one of my Dad's favorite bars, Bubby Bentz White Chip Tavern. That was the first time I ever remember Bubby having a ride at his picnic. It was called the Whip. I went on it once and couldn't wait to get off. When my brother and sisters wanted to go on it I remember making up excuses not to take them on or let them go on alone. Maybe I was being a wimp, maybe it was my gut telling me to stay off that ride.

We were all sitting at the picnic table eating hot dogs when we heard screaming. Something had gone wrong with the ride and they couldn't get it to stop. As the cars would whip around the corner, they were smashing in to some people that were trapped by the cars that had gone off the track. There were screams everywhere, and way too much blood. I don't know if anyone died that day, but I know there were some pretty messed up people.

Just before the accident with the ride I met a nice kid whose Dad was one of my Dad's buddies. His name was Jeff. He was cute and a little cocky, but a nice guy. He was very nice to my family and kept watching us all day. I didn't know why then...

When school started that fall, Jeff went to my school. I remember seeing him on the first day, but I don't think he saw me. I was the only one in my family that went to that school because I was the oldest. After a few days I almost literally ran into Jeff in the hall between classes. At first he just looked at me, kind of sad, and then he said hi. That was that.

A few days later I saw him with his friends and he was very different. He whispered something to his friends and then said "Hi Cornpicker!" That became his name for me. Every day, between what seemed like every class. He said that name so mockingly. He seemed mean now.
One day after school I saw him with one of his friends. They were by the door I needed to go out to get home. All I could think was how can I get past them without him saying anything. I didn't like him anymore. Nope, it wasn't gonna happen. He saw me and it started again, "Hey Cornpicker! Where do you think you're going Cornpicker?" Finally I got so mad I yelled back at him. "What's wrong with you? Why were you so nice in the summer and so mean now?" Then I heard the ugliest thing I ever heard. "I had to be nice to you. My Dad made me. He said your family was poor and we should be nice to you all." He said he called me Cornpicker because his Dad told him we were poor and when we needed food we would go into the cornfield by our house and pick corn. Yes, we had a cornfield next door to our house, but we never stole corn from that field. The owner told us as kids that he appreciated how we didn't steal from him.

Was he crazy? Were we poor? Why would he say such a thing? My heart hit the floor as I ran out the door. I cried all the way home. Why was he saying that to me? We weren't poor. We had food to eat and some clothes to wear. This made no sense to a 6th grader. Thankfully it was the weekend and I didn't have to see him again for a few days.

All weekend I looked around at our house and my family. I kept crying at what Jeff said. I told myself I really hated him, but in my heart I knew I didn't. I hated what he said. But most of all I hated that Jeff had opened my eyes to the reality of our family. He made me see what I was ignoring. Yes we were poor in money, but we had each other. I had ruined my shoes running home through water that Friday. My Mom made me get Saddle shoes and forced me to wear them to school. Nobody wore Saddle shoes anymore! They were so ugly!

But, as they always do, Monday came... and Jeff was there when I walked in the door with those ugly, ugly Saddle shoes on. Now I was Cornpicker with the ugly shoes. I went home that night and begged my Mom not to make me wear them again. She said I was too hard on shoes and was going to have to wear them because that's all I had. Oh my God! We were poor! I only had the one pair of shoes and no way out of wearing them. The next day I put my stuff in my locker, took my shoes off, and went to class with my navy blue knee socks on. They were dark like shoes, maybe no one would notice. It was fine until lunch time. When we went to the cafeteria I still had my socks on. One of the other teachers saw it and yelled at me in front of everyone. She wanted to know why I didn't have my shoes on. My sister Marcia was in the cafeteria and heard me get yelled at. Somehow I left the cafeteria and never went to recess. I had to go back to my locker and put on my ugly shoes.

I had to put my shoes back on for the rest of the day. When I got home. Marcia told my Mom I didn't wear my shoes in school. I remember telling my Mom I hated them and that they meant we were poor! My Mom's face went cold. All I can remember is that I had different shoes on when I went to school the next day. I don't know where they came from.

That name went with me to High School. The reason I think I remember this so well is not just because of the meanness of it all, but because it changed me. I believe that it adds to my need to be successful and be validated in this world. I will never be a world leader or famous, but I will make my mark on this world. My faith will never leave. My God will take care of me. I will never be poor. I will earn peoples respect and work hard to make a positive difference in this world.

And I still hate Saddle shoes...