My parents grew up with parents that lived during the
depression and consequently they learned the value of a dollar saved. What that
meant for me was a lecture anytime I asked for money to buy candy. It meant
that I would wear the clothes that my brother grew out of and when a hole would
appear in my pants, they were patched. Our shoes would have extra life added to
them when the shoemaker put on either hard rubber or steel “cleats” on the heel
and toes.
The rubber ones were okay, but the steel ones were very slippery
on tile floors but made me feel like Fred Astair. If the sole wore out, we
would take the shoes in and have a new one put on. It was much cheaper to put a
sole on rather than buy a new pair of shoes. It was also much easier than
breaking a new pair of leather shoes in.
When I was working at the Post Office, I found a pair of
shoes that were just perfect for the spring/summer/fall. They were black,
leather, lace ups with an oil resistant, thick sole which were light enough for
walking and heavy enough to let the dogs know you meant business. By the end of
the season, they would be pretty much worn down and once the snow started to
fall and I switched to boots, I would take them into the shoe repair guy and
have new soles and heels put on them for the coming spring. I always took them
to Bright’s Shoe Repair which was located at my local plaza. A week or so after
dropping them off, I would pick them up, pay $15 or $20 and have what amounted
to a new pair of shoes. He would shine them and add dye to blend the new rubber
with the old. They had an odd blend of new and old shoe smell to them.
Eventually, he couldn’t add a new sole any more and I would
have to buy a new pair of shoes every five or six years. I had been doing this
for about twenty years when it became impossible to find my shoes any more. I
guess they didn’t fit the current fashion sense. The price of shoes had also
come way down due to cheap foreign imports. Canada
stopped putting tariffs on imported shoes which effectively killed the home
grown shoe market, putting thousands of people out of jobs. I switched to light
hikers at work and although they couldn’t be repaired, they were light and
lasted a couple of years.
I stopped going to Bright’s just because there was nothing
he could do for me. Louise would take in a leather purse to be repaired every
now and then, but you couldn’t say that we were very good customers. Just about
eight or ten years ago, I noticed that the shoe repair was closed due to
illness. When I asked around, it turned out that the old guy had a pretty
serious heart attack. He came back to work a couple of months later, but when I
walked by he never did look very healthy.
I guess all of his customers were like Louise and I, it was
cheaper to buy new than to repair the old. Well, today when I was walking past
the shop, it was virtually empty, just a few boxes here and there. Mr. Bright
was loading the last plastic bin on a dolly to take to his car I suppose. He
has earned a restful retirement, but I can’t help but think he would rather
keep working if there was work to be had. He is a victim of cheap Asian shoes
and cheap Canadian consumers that would rather buy new than have the old shoes
repaired.
The shoe repair shop is disappearing like the milkman, payphone,
the ice wagon, the bread man, the knife sharpeners and soon the postman. Progress
I suppose…
You know your activities emerge of the crowd.
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