How To Measure A Dad

Do you wear a size 13 shoe?

When I was four, I remember trying on my dad’s shoes; they swallowed my ankles. When I attempted to walk across the room I tipped over like an unbalanced umbrella. He picked me up. I learned two things that day.

1. If I tumbled, he was there, and

2. Never walk in his shoes but instead admire the man who wears them.

Shoes were a big part of his life.

I remember his running sneakers lined up in the closet like a railroad track. He groaned at a fashionable shirt but when it came to jogging shoes, he had the latest. Pheidippides was his shoe store of choice. His vast historical knowledge informed me that Pheidippides was a Greek soldier who ran the plains of Marathon to announce a victory battle. But guess what? While researching for this dedication, I found out it was fake news, and the store would have had to have changed its name if it weren’t for its closure during the recession of ’88.

“It was actually the entire Athenian army that made the trek.”

Here's the facts.

Even so, I always enjoyed his antiquity lessons and was convinced he would have been an amazing history professor if the doctor thing didn’t work out. His photographic memory of events was a gift that never diminished. Even still, at 89. I loved the way he imparted historical knowledge to everyday conversation.

---

1983

After chatting for an hour, I began closing the conversation. “… I’m going to moms. Her new address is 1066. I’m trying to figure out the cross street.”

“You know, 1066 was the year William the Conqueror defeated King Harold of England.  Now, William was the son of a Duke, and his mistress Herleva was Jewish. So, one could say that the father of the English language was Jewish.”

“I’m sure everyone has a drop of Jew in them. Anyway, I’m thinking the cross street might be Manning.”

“You know, Manning is an old family name that’s from an Anglo-Saxon tribe. It comes from a Norse word, manningi, which translates to a valiant man.”

My dad had a guttural emphasis on the word, manningi. He was also known for extending conversations.

Grandson Dylan (my spawn) and dad; maybe 1999ish

---

2004

(The year we were moved to Boston)

“You know, the Boston fire department is the oldest in the US. The name ‘Boston’ comes from a town in Lincolnshire, England where the Puritans were from. And do you know about the curse of the Bambino?”

“Something to do with the Red Sox.”

“Harry Frazee traded Babe Ruth to the Yankees. The team hasn’t won a pennant since.”

(Later that year, the Sox would win the world series, breaking the curse.)

Dad and I; maybe 2002. This photo needs color correcting. Ah Kodachrome.

Although my dad never ran the Boston Marathon, his dedication to the 26 miles was impressive. I remember a moveable apparatus he wore to alleviate pain in the shins. At 89, he blames the running for his current physical ailments, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t change a thing if his power lift chair turned into a time machine. (I might have to write that screenplay.) It was a time of gratification. Besides, I loved to brag that my dad ran marathons, even if I conveyed the message to my friends like a bored valley girl.

“Ugh, like, yeah, my dad is running another dumb marathon. He had to pull off his toenails after the last one and he was bleeding.”

And in unison, my friends would say, “Eeeewwww.”

But inside I was a very proud daughter.

When my sisters and I were young moms, we’d give dad hell about wearing jogging pants and sneakers to the synagogue, a wedding, even a funeral. That was dad. Now he has a great excuse for his wardrobe. His stooped body needs relentless comfort.

I don’t remember when he had to give up running but that must have been difficult. The body has its own commandments as we age. His physical ailments forced him into retirement just a few years ago. He still looks at Want Ads for Pathologists.

He walks every morning with his Rollator (walker-wheelchair combo) and he and my stepmom recently went to my nephew’s college graduation across the country— dad wearing sneakers. Dad couldn’t tolerate orthotics. Must be his fussy flat feet. I wonder if his favorite sneaker is New Balance. Aptly named for a senior. He’s still impressive and I maintain a deep admiration for the man who now wears a size 13 shoe. (Our feet grow with age? Oy.)

I don’t try on his shoes anymore, but I’m here if he falls.

---

2023

“Dad, we’re all converging on you for your 90^th.”

“That’s nice. You know, the actress Olivia de Havilland lived to be 104 years old….”

Dad and I; 2022

1. What’s your favorite parent memory?

2. Does your dad have a sneaker fetish?

3. What size shoe do you wear? I’m a 9.

4. Don’t you think Nike should name a shoe for my dad? Air Arnold.