“You can tell a lot about a person by their shoes.” So says Forrest Gump and probably a whole lot of other people. I don’t really consider myself to be shoe obsessed, but I will admit that I tend to notice people’s shoes quite frequently. Usually it’s because of shoe choices that are completely outlandish and inappropriate for the given situation. 

Take, for example, women wearing stiletto heels to outdoor concerts and then spending the evening looking forlorn that they’re unable to dance because their heels keeping sticking in the lawn.

Or men I’ve seen wearing slick-heeled dress shoes to go “hiking” and then slipping and sliding on rocks, looking around sheepishly to see if anyone is witnessing their distress.

I think what you can tell about these people by their shoes is that they are more concerned about looking fashionable than about having a good time. It’s either that or they’re completely clueless — maybe a little of both.

I have two favorite pairs of shoes. One is a pair of Timberland hiking boots that I’ve had for over 20 years. They’re simple and plain, brown leather and brown laces. I’ve tried to buy other pairs of hiking boots over the years, but they’re just not the same. They never fit or feel as good.

The other is a pair of flip-flop sandals that I’ve had for over a decade. Again, they’re simple and plain, with no flash at all, and, again, other sandals I’ve purchased over the years just aren’t the same. I doubt anyone would give either of these pairs of shoes a second glance. 

The boots have carried me across countless miles of trails in national parks, from Glacier in Montana to the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

The sandals have cradled my feet in clear, cold streams and the Pacific Ocean and on miles of city streets all over the West, through Disneyland and Universal Studios more than once, and around Evanston every summer for years. They have been kicked off at concerts, beaches and deserts.

That both pairs are still in good condition and able to be worn regularly is nothing short of miraculous. 

So, what can you tell about me by these shoes? Probably not much by just looking at them. But in many ways these shoes tell the story of who I am and what I value. They’ve been with me on innumerable travels with my family, my husband, my kids, my parents, my brothers and my friends — the people who know me sometimes better than I know myself. 

They’ve been with me in the middle of the night under a full moon at Delicate Arch in Arches National Park; at sunset on the beach at Pacifica, California; when autumn’s first snow fell in Yellowstone and when the moon completely blotted out the sun over Sublimity, Oregon. 

They’ve been on my feet when I’ve stood watching each of my children trudge off to the first day of school and when I’ve felt the sheer joy of watching my kids discover what fills them with wonder.

They were on my feet when I stood trembling before classrooms of my peers trying to get over a fear of public speaking. They’ve also been with me at times of heartache, sorrow, and grief. 

Shoes have stories to tell. 

It is my hope that by writing about these shoes and why I love them, you yourself might begin to feel that you can tell a little bit about me. The experiences I’ve had while wearing them provide a window into what I value, and what I value provides the framework for what and how I write. 

Writing is what I do. In times of stress, anger, sorrow, frustration, curiosity, exhilaration, happiness and love, I write — about a million different things.