Sneaker wearer confesses his sneakery

Seven years ago, our son tied the knot. My uniform that day was utterly traditional — dark blue suit, white shirt, cautious tie, shiny black shoes. It was the last time I’ve worn those shoes — or any other “real” shoes, for that matter.

Late in life, I’ve adopted two approaches to my feet.

Approach One: They and I deserve to be comfortable, and shoes never achieve that. So, no more shoes, ever, for any reason.

squashed once the laces are tied. Meanwhile, shoes that don’t fit — and that’s most of them — tend to rub and cause blisters. And leather weighs quite a bit, leading to foot fatigue and annoyance.

Put it all together, and it’s no wonder that men come home from wherever and take off their shoes before they do anything else. It’s our cross to bear.

How I See It

By Bob Levey

Approach Two: I can fool the world with jet black sneakers whenever I need to seem respectable. I wear the sneaks with suits, with sports jackets, with business-casual outfits. I’ve even worn them to a funeral. No one noticed or objected.

The real wonder is that I didn’t arrive at the no-shoes decision sooner. The evidence is plain.

Regardless of the model, the toe sections of shoes always pinch. If the shoes have laces, the cartilages on top of one’s feet will get

But not for this boy — no, sir, no longer. Now I choose from three informal options: the black sneakers for dress occasions, a pair of comfy rubber-soled sandals for casual moments, and a pair of flip-flops for galumphing around the house. My feet cheer every day.

I’ve even tried to recruit other, ahem, mature men to my way of thinking. At a recent coffee klatch, one of the guys noticed my sandals and asked why I chose them.

Ever the poet, I replied:

“You know the old line about happy wife, happy life? My take is: Happy soles make happy souls.”

They groaned. But they got the idea.

Only once since my son’s wedding have I come close to being embarrassed. That moment came during a sudden rainstorm.

Sporting my trusty black sneakers, I was walking alongside a prospective employer when the heavens opened. My feet began to squeak, as rubber will when it gets wet.

My walk partner might have dismissed my employment prospects right then and there. Too casual, this guy. Too squishy. Too noisy.

But he simply nodded and asked if I always wore sneakers when it rains. I said I did. I got the job.

Of course, comfort does not belong only to the male of the species. If you’ll pardon the pun, women, too, have voted with their feet: High heels are just about a thing of the past.

The other day, I was at a fairly formal meeting involving a bunch of ranking politicians. Most of the people who spoke were women.

As each one approached the microphones at the front of the room, I happened to notice their footwear.

Flats. Aboard every single one of them.

They say no child would ever be born if

From page 39 culture, translations, Chinese lives in China, recipes for Chinese food, world events, goings-on in D.C., etc.,” she explained.

Qin was able to return to Shanghai several times to see and say goodbye to her parents, but she hasn’t been back for more than a decade. Her sister in Shanghai, and her parents, who died 20 years ago, “are all in my heart,” Qin said.

“I miss seeing my sister, who still lives there, and I would like to visit the cemetery where my parents are buried,” Qin said.

Qin, who refers to herself as ChineseAmerican, hopes the U.S. and China will “find ways to understand each other and improve relations,” she said.

“I do feel that the United States and China will always be different countries, but they still can work things out” on the diplomatic and humane fronts.

At her book talk last month, Qin urged others in the audience to tell their family history, too.

“If you have a story, write it,” she said. “No matter how hard it is.”

Once Our Lives is available at Amazon, Politics & Prose and other bookstores.