Commentary video

Tunesday: Jill Sobule, Big Shoes

braceI just had a birthday, and with it came a little bit of reflection. I had a birth defect–the opposite of  “club foot”– that was corrected by nighttime braces, adaptive physical education, and “big shoes”.  Had I been born in a different time, I would have been a limping, foot-dragging awkward outcast, my feet so splayed, my arches so fallen, that normal walking would  have Screenshot_12been nigh to impossible. Through the simplest of medieval devices, more than a decade of that adaptive physical education, and some truly, terribly ugly shoes, I grew into a young man with natural speed, strength and agility (mostly squandered, I’ll admit) who could cover 40 Screen-Shot-2012-06-22-at-1.09.23-PMyards in 5 seconds at 230 pounds, dunk a basketball, and catch just about anything thrown to me.  But man, those shoes were ugly.

Jill Sobule, pictured at right in her big, ugly, shoes wrote a song that resonates at the very deepest core of my soul.  Oh, how I wanted to wear sneakers, not heavy hot leather things with stiff soles that looked stupid with sweat socks.

By JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.

One reply on “Tunesday: Jill Sobule, Big Shoes”

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