Something I Learned From My Father...

Something I Learned From My Father

I am Buying a Pair of New Balance Shoes

Sarah (Qiuqi) Bovold | Nonfiction

I like to measure things with my index finger, which I learned from my father.

I am purchasing a pair of new sneakers at New Balance. For a long time, I’ve felt all the shoes from this brand look similar: a big letter N printed on both sides with a toecap as round as a baozi—包子—as my father usually says.

I find a purple, white, and navy-colored pair displayed on the middle shelf under women’s footwear, and I love how simple the color scheme is. I don’t like a shoe that has more than three colors, just like I don’t like writing a story that has more than three characters. I don’t need that many colors to prove the gorgeousness of a shoe, and I don’t need that many people to join this story about me and my father. I check the shoe size: It’s an 8. It isn’t my size, not even close. I am honest to the young lady working here; I don’t know what size would fit me perfectly, since I’ve never had a pair of New Balance before. I tell her that I wear size 9.5 in my Nike running shoes. She nods and tells me I can start by trying on the 9.5.

When I was a kid, my father liked buying me a pair of new shoes every other year. He said a pair of sneakers would wear out after two years, assuming I wore them a lot while jogging or walking. We shopped in many different shoe stores, but we had never been to a New Balance store. Whenever shoe shopping, my father would ask me to pick whatever I liked. Young kids’ feet grow fast. So after I picked one, my father would ask the worker there to bring two sizes for me to try on: one that was the same size as the one I was wearing, the other one is a half size bigger. I watched my father take the shoe for the right foot from the shoe box, loose the ties and take the fillers out, then put it down on the floor, gently motioning for me to put it on. I slid my foot all the way to the front—my big toe touched the toecap. After that, my father poked his index finger vertically into the space between my heel and the shoe: If it could fit a finger exactly, it meant the shoe perfectly fit.

I like to measure things with my index finger, which I learned from my father.

I have heard New Balance is well known for their President Jogging Shoes, but I am wondering if the President has time to jog around. Anyway, I know I will jog a lot in my new shoes, assuming I can find a pair today. I don’t know what happened that made me walk into this store, since I have never been a big fan of this brand. If I give it a guess, it may be because I just want to try something different. The young lady hands me a pair of shoes, size 9.5, that she found behind the display shelf. Before she helps other customers, she tells me to let her know if these don’t fit. I grab the shoe for my right foot and loose the ties. I take the fillers out of the shoe before I put it on. The shoe is a bit tighter than I thought. Or, since I have never worn New Balance shoes before, my foot may not be used to the shape of the shoe, I’m not sure. I slide my foot to the toecap and put my index finger vertically behind my foot: There isn’t enough space for my finger. So I tell the young lady that I may need a size 10.

The first cooking lesson that my father gave me was about making rice. He told me water is an important factor in rice-making. The “well-made rice” standard should be neither too soft like soup nor too chewy. I watched my father wash the raw rice three times, until there wasn't any dirt floating in the water. He leveled the wet rice at the bottom of the pot and added water, slowly. He stopped pouring after a certain amount of water and dipped his index finger in the pot. He asked me to take a closer look, and he pointed out that the water level had not reached the first finger joint, which meant he needed to add more water. He asked me to remember this method and use it whenever I needed to make rice.My friend gave me a measuring cup that showed exactly how much water you need for a cup of rice. It makes life way easier, my friend said. But I have never used it as a measuring cup. I treat it like a normal cup. Whenever I make rice, before turning on the rice maker, I dip my index finger into the water to see if the water level reaches my first joint.

I like to measure things with my index finger, which I learned from my father.

The sneakers that I am wearing now, I got them about two years ago. Even though they look fine and are still comfortable, I feel they are starting to wear out, and I cannot wait to have a pair of new shoes. After a while, the lady hands me a size 10. I guess there may not be many size 10s left, and it took her some time to find one in the store-room. I thank her for her help. Then, as usual, I set my right foot in the shoe, and my big toe touches the toecap. This time, there is more than enough space, too much space, after I poke my finger behind my heel.

I tell the young lady that neither of the two sizes fit perfectly due to the results of my finger-measuring method.

​“You can put both shoes on, then walk around to give them a feel,” she recommends before I give up.

Art credit: "The Thinker: Portrait of Louis N. Kenton" (1900) by Thomas Eakins via the Metropolitan Museum of Art