Patent leather shoes

On these cold, cold winter days, it helps to think of warmer climes and summer days. I was one of the lucky few in my family of eight children who got to spend time in the summer at Gramma's house. My older brother started the tradition, and he got to spend a much longer time there than I did. I felt grown up and important staying with Gram. She had so many exciting things at her place, I hardly knew where to begin.

First of all, her bedrooms were marvelous for exploration, especially the closets. There were knickknacks and travel mementos (my great aunt had taken a cruise in Alaska once and brought back carved seals and fancy brushes and all kinds of wonderful curiosities). You could spend a week examining those treasure troves.

Then there was the kitchen. Gram ran a gift shop from her living room. It eventually took over the whole downstairs. But that meant she didn't have much time for cleaning and housekeeping. So I sorted and discarded moldy things from the fridge, wiped the fronts of her metal cabinets clean, and rearranged things to be more handy (I was never sure whether she appreciated my help or merely indulged me).

Of course, there was the fascination of the chicken coop that sagged in the sun just beyond the garbage pit (in those days, you didn't pay someone to take away your trash, you burned or buried it). I was scared of those grumpy old biddies, but I loved watching Gram scatter their food and take their eggs while they were eating. In the evenings there was settin' in the yard watching traffic and sucking on a cold Fudgscicle. And in the morning you got to feed the extra oatmeal to the birds and squirrels. Life was grand.

Once during every summer, Gram would take me shopping down to the strip mall - the latest fad in shopping elegance. There were lots of stores there, a Carl Co, a Woolworth's, specialty shops - all grand with their decorated window displays. I most like to see what they had in the Thom McCann shoe store window. I rarely ever got new shoes in those days. Mostly either very cheap sneakers or second-hand-store not-quite-the-right-fit shoes.

One summer, I spied a pair of shiny black patent leather shoes. They were to die for. I knew better than to ask for them, but oh how I wished I could have a pair of shoes like that. Gram seemed completely oblivious to the object of my attention. Couldn't she see my nose pressed against the glass? Didn't she notice how slowly I walked by the window every time we passed?

Ah, well. Not for me. I finally gave up thinking about them and concentrated on the ice cream sundae she had bought me at the Woolworth lunch counter. They had this special deal where you picked a balloon and popped it, and whatever price was inside, that was what you paid, no matter how much your tab was. I don't think we ever came out very far ahead on that deal, but I thought Gram was always willing to buy me a treat just to play the game.

Summer ended too soon, and Gram drove me home, my raggedy suitcase thrown in the back of the red pickup. Family get togethers were always an occasion and involved lots of food. Gram stayed until dark, then made the hour drive back to Schenectady from Johnstown. I waved a sad good bye as she backed out of the driveway.

Before slipping into bed that night, I decided to unpack, closing the door on summer and turning to a new school year that would begin in just a few days. I shook out my shirts and put away my toothbrush and socks. Suddenly I noticed a brown package in the bottom of my suitcase. I didn't remember putting anything like that in there. What if something of Gram's inadvertently fell in and she needed it?

I tore open the package, and there before my eyes were those very same black patent leather shoes I had drooled over at the shoe store. When on earth she had bought them I don't know. I sat on the floor of my bedroom and hugged them and laughed right out loud. She HAD noticed. She had heard my heart.