Toe Jam

 

I wish somebody had warned me to take care of my feet when I was young. Now I'm stuck with feet so screwed up that I can't walk barefoot. Not even from the bedroom to the bathroom. It's like I'm walking on bones, no meat at all on the bottom of my feet. Part of it is that I used to buy ill fitting, cheap shoes imported from communist Poland back in the 1970s. The company I worked for was the importer, so it was a bargain that I couldn't pass up. Now I spend all that money I saved back then, buying expensive shoes that fit right. Another big reason not to walk barefoot are my toes. I value them. Stubbing your toe is extremely painful so mine are always protected inside shoes of some sort. Years ago, when I was a kid, my mom and dad bought a dinette set for the kitchen. It was very stylish in that mid-century sort of way. The problem was the pedestal chairs that came with it. They lurked up there in the kitchen just waiting for my sister, Peggy. Evil damn chairs seemed to hate her. Every once in awhile you would hear the wail of what sounded like the Civil Defense siren, only it wasn't the siren. It was Peggy writhing on the kitchen floor holding her toe and screaming. It wasn't only Peggy. Just about every one of us slammed our toe into one of those stupid pedestal chairs at one time or another. But only Peggy kept repeating the toe jam, over and over. I'm surprised she can still walk.