The only interaction I receive at Big Shoe Warehouse comes from the high school cashiers who are more interested in chewing gum than in serving customers. They wouldn’t know how to make change without their registers, and the managers seem to be hiding from any parents who might have questions. My boys gravitate toward shoes that are overly colorful, the flashiest options, or what they believe their friends will be wearing. I find myself boxing up our selections and taking them to the front counter, where I begrudgingly make the purchase.
This experience frustrates me, especially when I think back to my own back-to-school shoe shopping adventures. In the ’80s, my grandparents took us on a journey to Thompson’s Shoe Shop—an hour’s drive from our quiet town. Mr. Thompson had been fitting shoes since the end of World War II, and he employed a few warm-hearted clerks who he personally trained to use an old-fashioned shoe sizer. This shiny, metal device with sliding levers ensured that we were perfectly fitted.
The clerks always took a genuine interest in what we would be doing in school: Were we excited for gym class? Let’s find you the latest athletic shoes! Often, Mr. Thompson himself would assist, sitting on one of the many stools in the shop with a rubber-treaded ramp at the front. His friendly demeanor and white hair made him seem like a beloved uncle, and he would tie our shoes while engaging us in conversation. “How do they feel? Walk around a bit.”
Shoe shopping took us a good hour, but it was an enjoyable time filled with anticipation. I still remember one particularly exciting trip when I walked out with a pair of sleek Lone Ranger running shoes, silver with the hero’s face emblazoned on each side. I ran so fast in those shoes that the image eventually faded, leaving just a masked silhouette.
Unfortunately, local shoe stores like Thompson’s have faded into memory. My children will not experience the joy of a friendly salesperson or the cool sensation of the shoe sizer against their socked feet. The shoes we purchase will likely fall apart by December, just in time for the holiday sales to kick in. Yet, I still cling to the tradition of back-to-school shoe shopping, feeling that it’s an experience worth having, even if customer service has become slipshod.
The storefront that once housed Thompson’s is now a hair salon. It’s difficult to tell what they offer, given the chaotic mix of poorly painted signs showcasing hairdos alongside posters for local events and even palm readings. I didn’t brave a trip inside.
Ultimately, shoes may seem trivial compared to the significant educational challenges we face today, such as Common Core standards and testing requirements. However, I can’t help but reminisce about a time when shopping meant more than just a transaction. It was a place where relationships were formed, filled with the scent of genuine leather, and where you left feeling accomplished. So, I happily say farewell to Thompson’s and similar stores as we prepare for another school year. Hi-ho, Silver, away!
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Summary
Reflecting on the stark contrast between past and present shoe shopping experiences, the author reminisces about the warmth of small-town service and personal connections at neighborhood shoe stores. Today, the experience feels impersonal, yet the tradition of back-to-school shopping holds a special place in the heart.
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