USA

sward@cruzio.com

THE PODIATRIST’S SON
               “When our feet hurt, we hurt all over.”
                                                       --Socrates

1. The Podiatrist’s Son

Mother:
“One day the kid will wake up,
 come down to earth
and enroll
  at the Illinois College of Podiatry.”

    Father:
    “But look, his feet aren’t on the ground.”

“They’ve never been on the ground. He’s a dreamer.”

    “Just look at that posture!  And he toes in.
    Poor feet, poor posture.
    The boy lives in another world.”

“Wait, I think he needs a new pair of shoes.”

    “Oxfords, shoes that will support him,
    shoes with laces,
    shoes that breathe.”

“Listen.  Listen to your father,” she says.

2. How To Shop For Shoes

    “No loafers, no sandals, nothing
    without laces,” he says.

    “There are fifty-two bones in the feet;
    thirty-three joints; more than one hundred
    tendons, muscles and ligaments...”

We’re on our way to Jackson’s Shoes.

    “Fit for length, fit for width,
    get both feet fitted.

    “People are asymmetrical.  You’ll find
    one foot, one testicle, one breast
    larger than the other...”

“Listen, listen to your father,” she says.

    “Feet swell, grow larger
    as the day goes on.

    “So, nu?  shop when they’re bigger,
    shop for the larger foot.

    “Otherwise...
    heel pain, heel spurs, bunions and hammertoes...

    “Remember, there’s no break in period,
    shoes don’t break in.
    Buy what feels right now.”

“Listen, listen to your father.”

3. Getting Through the Night

    “So: the foot is the mirror of health.
    What’s that smell?
    Let me see your feet.  Oi!

    “How many times do I have to say it?
    A pair of feet have twenty-five thousand
    sweat  glands, can produce eight ounces,
    a cup of perspiration in a single day.

    “One quarter of all the bones in the human body
     are in the feet.”

He sits at my bedside carving arch supports.

    “Take a flashlight.
    Never walk around in the dark.
    Most foot fractures occur at night...

    “Now remember your slippers,” he says
     as I head for the bathroom.

In my father’s house
there are no bedtime stories.

© All Copyright, Robert Sward.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.