Growing up in rural MT where the closest town has a population of 814 meant that when ever there was a football game at home, the town shut down. Pretty much everybody that could, stopped what they were doing and went to watch. It was more than watching the local high school boys battle it out on the field, it was a social thing.
I didn't grow up in town, I grew up in the boonies so going to football games wasn't something I got to do very often but if dad decided he wanted a break from what ever Saturday project he was working on, (usually something in his wood shop) then he'd take me with him. It wasn't until I became a teenager that this became a problem. I was one of those people who was invisible but wanted to be seen, but not for the reasons I was usually seen. The trip and fall moments in front of everybody.
I would find my way to the stands where all of the high school students sat and try to blend in. Dad would do his thing which meant he'd walk up and down the sidelines chatting with all of the other adults. All of the adults did this except not in quite the flair that my dad did. When Dad stopped working in the shop to go to the ball game he came in what he was wearing at the time which was always his 501 Levi jeans; high water and his slippers.
Mortifying for a teenager! Usually covered in sawdust as well. If Dad needed to go into town to get some supplies he'd get in his truck and off we'd go. In his high water 501's and his slippers. No amount of reasoning could get Dad to change out of his slippers. He worked 8-midnight most days in a suit, white shirt, and tie. On Saturday, if he could, he worked in his slippers and we couldn't convince him other wise.
It's funny how things change over time. Looking back what was mortifying at the time is now a fond memory. It might have something to do with the fact that now it is me that is always going everywhere in my slippers......but I don't think so. It's who my Dad is. The same man who likes his slippers walked around back in the day growing up in San Diego, CA with his 501's rolled up wearing All Star high tops! (That was when he'd actually wear shoes. Most times, he was barefoot.)
I'm just so dang proud to carry on the tradition as I walk the halls of The Native's schools in my slippers. So proud, so honored. "L" for LOVE the slippers......or loser if you're The Native's and I happen to be walking next to them in public.
I love it! You may have read a couple of posts about my 'ugly sweater' that belonged to my dad. I also have a pair of his slippers that I wear - sometimes even in public. On a really good day, you might catch me in both.
ReplyDeleteHere's to carrying on the legacy of wearing slippers in public!
Here's to carrying on traditions!
ReplyDeleteHa! I can just picture it high waters, slippers, and Rachel's bright red face! Reminds me of my father and his pocket protector...Sorry, that's one legacy I won't be carrying on.
ReplyDeleteHuh. Just like my dad in his pajama bottoms.
ReplyDeleteGerb, And a totally awesome legacy it is! Can you imagine if we had to carry on a legacy like wearing a pocket protector or something like that? :D JK Natalie!!
ReplyDeleteChastina, Here here!!
Natalie, Sorry, couldn't resist teasing you in my response to Gerb. Every child I think has those 'moments' and then when we become parents we get to carry on the legacy of embarrassing the tar out of our kids. THAT is an awesome legacy.
Hanna, But does he wear them in public????? :)
Now, I probably would not go out of the house in my slippers, but that's because I don't want to get the dang things dirty. Dirty slippers totally gross me out. I've seen girls running around in what should be soft, fluffy slippers that look worse that road kill, and I don't like it. My dad? I don't remember him ever dressing down quite that much. He called jeans "the hippies' uniform." Until some time in the 80s when he finally bought a pair for himself. But even then, they were old guy jeans and not real ones. My parents never went barefoot. I blaze the trail.
ReplyDeleteKristen, That is because the slippers have to have soles on the bottoms of them. Leather soles. Then they don't get all disgusting like the ones you are talking about that I have to agree with you on.
ReplyDeleteGosh, the memories. If only we could go back and do it again. I'd stroll beside Dad and hold his hand.
ReplyDeleteVirginia, I know. If only we knew what we know now huh?
ReplyDeleteHa! Too funny. Isn't it great how our parents embarrass us and then we catch ourselves repeating the same behaviors twenty years later?
ReplyDeleteI wear my "slippers" pretty much everywhere. They're fuzzy crocs, though, so no biggie. ;)
Lori, I can't tell you how many times I have caught myself doing things that I said I would NEVER do. Things my parents did. I will NOT be like my mother........uh huh........I'm tired of eating crow.......
ReplyDeleteGreat slippers! What part of MT did you grow up in? I served my mission there and absolutely love that place!
ReplyDeleteNatasha, AWESOME!! When did you serve? I grew up in little Darby, MT.
ReplyDeleteGreat! I've heard of Darby but didn't serve there. I served from Nov. 2002-June 2004 and I definitely want to go back to visit again. :)
ReplyDeleteWas President Recht in the mission presidency while you were serving?
ReplyDeleteYes, he was! I love President and Sister Recht! He's from Darby, right? I forgot about that. Small world.
ReplyDeleteNatasha, LOL! Small world indeed! The high water cowboy I was speaking of in this post is in fact, my father! :D President Recht and my mother... Sister Recht. They are now the temple President and Matron of the Spokane, WA temple.
ReplyDeleteNatasha, I just called my Dad and he remembers you. He'd like your e-mail addy so he can say hello. :)
ReplyDeleteWow!! That is awesome! My email is: messier.7@gmail.com. I would love to hear from them! I'm glad I commented... :)
ReplyDeleteNatasha, I know! Me too! Coincidence? I think not. ;)
ReplyDelete