Saturday, February 10, 2024

From shoes to uncles

There's an editorial in WSJ today from a woman who had been told by her doctors she had to give up high heels. There's a pay wall, but I know she finally opted for good health rather than be crippled. I was never a shoe fanatic, but I did wear high heels, probably 3" in high school and college, then 2" in my 40's, then sort of wedgies, and now flat Mary Jane's. After I retired in 2000 at 60 I was always well dressed when I went out in public--like to the coffee shop, grocery store or various club meetings. Until about 2010, I always wore high heels with my slacks. After exercise class I would go home and change clothes rather than appear in the grocery store in my athletic clothes. Somewhere after 70 I decided that was probably wasted energy. These memories are included in the blog I wrote in 2015 about "What I used to do and don't anymore." If I hadn't written it, I might not remember I ever wore high heels.

My grandmother Weybright held out as long as she could. Born in 1876 she was still wearing sensible high heels and a nice dress when I would drive her to cattle sales or the state fair (she managed her farms) in the late 1950s. Women were stronger and smarter in those days. I think she also wore a hat in public.

In the photo below (1949) my grandmother is in the back on the right and I can see she's wearing heels with a strap; her sister-in-law, Alice Jay, who was older is seated on the left and is also wearing heels. It was a terribly hot sticky day, and I was very uncomfortable as I can see from the look on my face.

  
The person taking the photo was my uncle, J. Edwin Jay, the retired president of Wilmington College in Ohio. I decided to check the internet, and found that a younger faculty member had decided to publish in 2015 Jay's story of his years at Wilmington on the internet from a typed manuscript he found in the library. So I looked up Prof. McNelis who had retired, and sorry to say he died about 6 months ago, so I can't thank him for that nice gesture. Uncle Edwin and I corresponded for years, and I made a special trip to see him before he died in Detroit in 1963. And we know all this because some journalist has given up her painful shoes.





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