We are about to flip an epic page – well, not in California, but in Elsewhere USA. We are about to flip a calendar page and stride into fall.
As an Baby Booming American, I often find myself striding – in the doors of the local drugstore. Today it was for Dr. Scholl’s ‘Ball of Foot’ cushions.
You’d think as the rest of my body ‘thickens’ with fat, that the ball of my foot wouldn’t have diminished fat pads.
Seriously, ‘diminished fat pads’: that’s the explanation that my internist gave for the necessity of additional cushioning, so that a three-hour walk at the O.C. Fair could lead to increased Advil dosages. As we age, intermittent creaks and groans, tingles and breakdown issues emerge. Oh, well – there’s something at the drugstore for that.
I got to thinking about the Dr. Scholl’s. His wooden clogs were my religion during summers in Indiana with Lar. Easy to kick off/on one’s feet before/after tubing and other devil-may-care activities, I swore by them. It was walking on a well-carved piece of wood, topped by a leather strap. The purported ‘exercise’ sandals were not only good for your feet, but they were playfully chic.
That clever Dr. Scholl. His wood plank sandals helped to foster my ‘ball of foot’ degeneration, I am certain – and he’s here to sell me the ‘cure’ for the condition at this end of the middle of my life.
Capitalism stalks us in America – oh well. We are the fat cats that others in the world idolize…if they only knew that fat pads wear out.