What Your Shoes are Saying About You
Shoes tell me the first story, always. It's a gut-level survival instinct to notice them, as they are often overlooked. That’s where my eyes usually start when I'm out and about at well-attended events and crowded places. Shoes convey a vibe that can be out of sync with the rest of what I get out of a first impression. Jeans and a T-shirt say chill, but the beige army-issue SWAT boots tell me something different. A well-dressed person with ratty shoes makes me think again. UGG boots in the summer or flip-flops in the winter show a disregard for practicality, just the same as an $800 pair of dress shoes with crisp denim says, 'I want to fit in while flexing my financial muscles.’
On January 23, 2025, I took an online assessment consisting of 12 questions, all Yes or No. It’s called, Is A.A. for You? If you are interested and have like one extra minute, you can take it by clicking here:
I am not going to write what I scored, but let’s say that my results on the assessment, along with the interventions of handcuffs and my dead body dragged through a digital coliseum were enough to get me moving in the A.A. direction. I clicked. I read. I hesitated. Then I walked — just over 2,000 steps, give or take. I was kinda shocked to find a meeting on my very street. I walked those steps the next day on January 24th and have been walking them back and forth ever since.
Like the old Head and Shoulders commercials, there aren’t second chances on first impressions. What I expected and what was before me when I walked into the AA room were misaligned. I anticipated being there with three or four fellas like Frank Gallagher from Shameless, or Shooter from the movie Hoosiers. They’d look like shit and smell like smoke; I’d confirm my beliefs about the whole thing and be on my way. I was wrong. Or as we say around here, wicked wrong. The chairs were arranged in a circle… I didn’t expect that. Between 20 and 30 people were sitting in said circle, which was only about 900% more than I had envisioned.
Ever go into a church that’s a religion different than yours? You don’t know the rules. In the RC church, a non-Catholic can be spotted as soon as they don’t genuflect before sliding into their pew. They are even further confused by the sign of the cross, when to stand, sit, and kneel, as well as the entire process of shaking hands and hugging at the sign of peace. When I took my seat…I felt like that. I wasn’t sure if I was even allowed to be there, after all, I wasn’t a member, hadn’t applied, or paid my dues. I was asked to introduce myself — not to embarrass me, but to get to know me better, and it went from there.
I can’t believe this really exists
The second A of A.A. stands for 'anonymous,' but I have relinquished that here. I sat in a circle of strangers that day, and while I listened, I took in my surroundings. The circle made it easy for me to go around the room surveying footwear. It wasn’t a theater-style setting where I could only see the back of someone’s head, nor were there tables obstructing my view. I saw New Balance, Hoka, and Asics, as well as work boots, heels, hiking boots, slippers, loafers, and those cool, stylish ankle boots that work with everything except sweats. Then came the accompanying apparel, followed by the faces and hair – a 50/50 split of men and women – in a place where I expected to see mainly dudes.
When it came to the ages of those there, you name it. There were Boomers there with X, Y, and Z. And then, as I watched and listened to people speak, I realized that I wasn’t among the desolate and disheveled with stained, wrinkled shirts and bottles in brown paper bags. I was in a room with moms and dads, grandparents, professionally successful, hard-working people. People who hit the gym, cook, read, love their kids, yet worry and struggle too. Just like me. Others who kept it together on the outside while disintegrating on the inside. You wouldn’t know it by their footwear, but some had lost jobs, marriages, and health. The shoes didn’t tell that part of the story. But their voices did. And for what had to be done — the most challenging part, for most — they weren’t doing it alone.
When people are out and having a good time, socializing, laughing, dancing, cheering, having a few isn't all that bad. It’s euphoric at times. But there are other times. I call them lonely-ish times. Anytime I walked into Karma here in Concord all by myself to have some food and a saki, or two, or three, I wasn’t alone. For there were others there to talk to, mostly about nonsense – the Sox, the Celtics, politics, or cars. In that time, and that activity, there’s a mini sense of belonging. In those convos, there’s little or no anxiety, no stress, some laughs. Then it’s time to go home, where the stress of work, the demands of life, and keeping it together can be kinda tough. It’s lonely-ish. And after a while, lonely-ish isn’t a feeling. It’s a place.
When I was in the town of Lonely-ish on January 24th, I half-joked to myself that I might find someone at AA to go grab a couple of drinks with after the meeting. Maybe I’d meet someone else who was alone with their fears or their stress. But pretty quickly, I realized I was far, far, far from alone. The number of meetings that happen daily around me is astounding. The number of people involved? Astronomical. And the variety of places they shop for their shoes… well, that’s endless.