“Watching alone by the ancient city wall, / Thinking of one who was too beautiful, / What did I see? What did I hear?
“Moonlight, quivering over empty courtyards, / A voice calling out of the midnight shadows. / One name, her name, echoes across the silence. / Light feet, her feet, in shoes of peacock feathers, / Dance through the empty halls. Will they never rest?
“Thinking of joys that ended and sorrows which never end / I find my white robe spangled with tears for her.” Thinking Of Lady Yang At Midnight by an Anonymous writer (c. 1100-1150) translated by Jean S. Grigsby and included in the collection, World Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from Antiquity to Our Time, edited by Katherine Washburn and John S. Major. the collection was published by the Quality Paperback Book Club, New York.
Shoes of peacock feathers? I don’t know if the idea would catch on today. My father would have preferred fine leather…
We have every style of shoe imaginable today for sale. Sport shoes for those who run, hike and walk. Dress shoes for every fancy occasion. Sandals so our toes can experience the warm summer breeze and the sensation of sand between them when we walk the beach. We have safety shoes for those who work on construction sites. No longer are they merely functional and clumsy; they’re also easy to wear and still offer the protection needed. It’s not such a stretch to consider a wardrobe of shoes like a closet filled with clothing for all moods and occasions. Imelda Marcos took her obsession with shoes to the extreme, but there are some people who yearn to collect beautiful footwear.
My father spent his life in the leather business. He could look at any pair of shoes and tell you all about the leather that went into their making.
I remember going into the office with him in my youth when he needed to finish a project he was working on. That office would seem almost archaic by today’s standards, more a museum piece than functional workspace. His office included manual typewriters, electric adding machines, blotters on well-polished wooden desks and rotary dial phones. There was no air conditioning, either. The windows in his office opened to let in a breeze during summer.
His brother worked as the night watchman for the plant. If my father needed quiet to get his work finished, I would go with my uncle on his rounds through the factory complex. He carried a special recorder that needed to have a key inserted at every one of the watch station he passed on his rounds. There were mice in the deep, dark corners of the factory. I could hear them scurrying away as he and I entered the cavernous rooms. The machinery was deafening during the day when the plant was filled with workers, but strangely quiet at night. When my father had put his books and ledgers away, he would drop by my uncle’s office to take me home. He often found me putting out some of my uncle’s lunch on the windowsill for the raccoons that always came by for a meal.
My business has changed so much throughout the years, from 45’s and commercials on carts, to digital audio tape and then cds, and finally to computer systems. A lot has changed in this world, but the process of making fine leather is still basically the same. Even years after my father retired, he still retained his passion for the business that he lived for so many years.
I mention all of this because my father was born during the month of August. He passed on fifteen years ago before both my children were born. When we take my children for back-to-school shopping and shoes are on the list, I can’t help but think of him and all that he taught me about fine shoe leather.
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Don Jackson
