A few years ago, I got a new pair of work shoes for Christmas. The first or second time I wore them to work, I noticed that somebody else had the exact same shoes. That was that. I am pretty sure I didn’t wear them again after that.

Dylan had a job interview I believe, and needed to wear some nice shoes, of which he had none at the time. In came my barely worn work shoes to the rescue, since Dylan and I wore exactly the same size shoe. He hated the shoes, but wore them for the interview. It was then that he referred to them as “clown shoes.” It brings a smile to my face just imagining him calling them that. He would say it with as much disgust in his voice as he could muster. I don’t remember if he got that job, but he did find a job, and that job required black shoes. He was stuck with the clown shoes until he bought some different ones. Being a young man with little money to “throw away” on something as impractical as a pair of work shoes, he decided to stick with the clown shoes.

The clown shoes, along with Dylan’s others, including his pair of shoes that I wore to his service, were thrown into a pile in garage, when I started on the flooring in his room. There, they remained until the rain came. Storm Watch December 2014 (at least for a couple days). Like Dylan, I guess I didn’t want to waste money on work shoes. Needless to say, I discovered that when I walked on the rain soaked parking lot on my way into work, my socks quickly became soaking wet. I dug the clown shoes out of the pile in garage. I couldn’t help but smile when I told Donna how I discovered I needed new shoes, and that I was wearing the clown shoes for now. Both of us always referring to them as “clown shoes.”