P.F. FLYERS vs KEDS – they're sneakers damn it!

P.F. FLYERS vs KEDS – they're sneakers damn it!

I remember when they became running shoes. It was the age of Adidas and Reeboks and we swallowed it hook, line and sinker! P.T. Barnum was wrong; there's one born every second.

Fashion, it seems, has always been and the carnies that bark at us with reasons why their product is superior will probably be here until the human species breathes its last.

I can still recall sitting on the floor wrestling with my first pair of sneakers. They weren't really mine. When you live with 5 other siblings and you're number 3 out of 6, you wear hand-me-downs. Canvass sneaks – the nickname for sneakers, now running shoes – could readily be made new with a toss into the washing machine and a dash of mother's little helper, Clorox.

I was thrilled to have that worn blue label that reads, KEDS at the heel of my sneaks! KEDS guaranteed that you'd run faster – BUT THEN CAME THE OMINOUS P.F. FLYERS with its green heel label that guaranteed that the wearer would not only run their fastest, but jump their highest as well.

NOW, many moons later, I am in a quandary. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? What measuring device is there with which to calculate one's capabilities in reaching peak speed or highest height?

When the man I used to be married to walked into the house with the mysterious box that housed the new an improved footwear; the running shoe, it was all I could do not to explode in bellicose laughter. But I was dutiful back then, so I praised his decision to abandon the sneaker. BUT when he told me how much he paid for these foot adornments I left the room to avoid being his murderer.

Running shoes eventually metamorphed into walking shoes, climbing shoes, jogging shoes – just about everything which the legs are capable of performing. Each level once again guarantees optimal performance – ONLY NOW THE CLAIM IS MADE THROUGH RESEARCH STUDIES!!! - and once again we the people swallow it hook, line and sinker.

It was the late 80s when the pleading eyes of my one and only child came home to me to disclose “the sacred secret;” the upcoming release of AIR JORDANS.

“HOW MUCH DID YOU SAY!!??!!??”

“Mom you don't understand these are JORDANS.”

“HOW MUCH DID YOU SAY!!??!!??”

“You're looking at this all wrong – these are Jordan's.”

Actually I was looking at it through the eyes of a dead woman. I had been 4 or 5 months into chemo torture, and things were looking about as healthy as my depleting finances.

Did I relent?

Are you kidding? He was alive and infatuated with his version of P.F. Flyers.

I often wonder how Jesse (J.C.) Owens won all of those gold medals with those thin exercise shoes.

Yesterday I sent a thank you note through hubpages to Tom Waits. Mr. Waits wrote “Step Right Up,” a ditty that I guarantee – without research expenses – will make anyone rethink their idiotic purchases prompted through advertising bull!

Peace Baby

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LET GO & FREE FALL INTO NEW BEGINNINGS