Clodhoppers sreppohdolC

Walking many a mile has weathered these vehicles. CLODHOPPERS, a.k.a. oxfords, was drawn in charcoal with just a hint of quirkiness and distorted perspective to portray their warmth and imperfections. Mom lovingly saved these sturdy shoes, always wearing them to march in local parades. She proudly belonged to Polo's American Legion Women's Auxiliary. Having lived through World War II's trying days, Mom and other "town folk" took great pride in their patriotism, their servicemen and women and their hometown.

Things I miss about living in a small town full of oxford-wearing churchgoers? Everybody goes to those parades and the local sporting events outrank any TV shows. Farm boys, leaving chores behind, line up in formation on the field - ready to do battle with the "next town over". Don't have a ride to church? Floyd Wolfley could pick you up in his classic Oldsmobile that's seemingly stuck in 2nd gear's push button position. The charming cemetery on the north side of town tells a story of familiar residents known to its faithful visitors. And I miss the trusting neighbors. Not that my neighbors aren't to be trusted but there was a time when we really didn't obsess about locking the door. And if you ended up with a leg in a cast or had an operation? You were bound to come home to find the grass mown, your papers picked up and your mail brought in with supper in the kitchen. But don't count on finding out who your secret helper is necessarily. It's just the right thing to do. And Tommy, the delivery boy, could gladly come back if you don't have your $1.25 for the paper that you share with Grandma and Grandpa. Or how about those "dishes to pass" that made every potluck gathering a hit? By far the best feature of all? Living close to family and friends on well kept, tree-lined streets. There's always someone to play hopscotch or 4-Square with. And when things aren't good, those same friends step up to the plate with broad shoulders to cry on.

I sing the praises, albeit off-key, of quaint towns that predate road rage and stop lights. They lack the selfishness, cynicism and anonymity of big towns. Yes, I relish the embrace of my old hometown and its beloved familiarity. Representations of small town USA, these sepia-toned leather shoes exude personable warmth. Their soft patina and reliable platforms standing as ever-ready reminders of good times. Sad times. Sentimental times and small town values - Norman Rockwell-like in forgivable imperfection. Proof positive of their caliber, this comfy pair still hold a place of importance in my home and my heart. These tributes to simple substance and pure value seem to be unremarkable constants... but were built to last because they're made in good old U.S. of A. The shoes and the memories. sigh. If you've ever lived in a small town, feel free to share your story here.