Monday Memories of going barefoot

I looked through my albums, but I was a poor deprived child--my mother's camera broke after the first two children, and I can't find a photo of me in bare feet. Although I'm pretty sure that like most children growing up in the 1940s, I rarely wore shoes in the summer except to go to church. Several years ago my son had a summer job mowing lawns. I was a bit concerned because he was suffering from a bad back--stenosis of the spine, I think. Anyway, after a summer of walking behind a lawnmower, he was fine. I'm not sure he was barefoot, however, he might have been.

To stay on track here, the toes on my right foot began to hurt last summer while I was wearing a pair of sandals and giving a presentation in front of the Green Gables (Lakeside) on 19th century architecture. I sort of limped home and put the sandals away. Most of the time, the foot didn't hurt as long as I didn't wear them.

Last week-end I put on a different pair and the same pain started--I think it is a nerve between the 3rd and 4th toes, but I suppose it could be on the ball of the foot. So I googled it--found a picture and pointed. I read through the stuff, book marked it, but have already forgotten what that nerve area is called. (Cousin Bill, help me out here.) But I did remember my son. So today I went outside with my CD of Luther's Small Catechism, took off my shoes and socks, and walked for about 30 minutes in the back yard. It's a very different sensation. For starters, you have to lift your foot a little higher because dragging your toes through grass is not a fun feeling. Then you have to watch for sticks and rocks. And dog poop. I wouldn't say my foot feels better, and my back hurts a little from the awkward gait, but it wasn't too bad for a childhood memory.