The (Second) First Sign of Spring

The temperature rose above 60° today (near 70° finally) and I brought my moccasins out of the closet where they had been sequestered since last October. For most of the spring, summer, and fall I wear moccasins (sans socks) most days. I’ve done so off and on – mostly on – for at least 50 of my 64 years. I don’t know how this habit began. I have pictures of me as an Indian Guide, age about 12, wearing moccasins. There are also pictures of me at about age 15 (embarrassing pictures of me in a baseball uniform, striking poses mimicking early ‘60s baseball cards) wearing moccasins. There was a professor of theater at Wichita State (Wichita University back then) when I first went to college who wore moccasins and whose daughter was the girlfriend of a friend of mine and perhaps he was an influence. Maybe in the late ‘60s and ‘70s the moccasins fit into my faux-hippie and faux-scholar personas. Certainly they fit neatly into my move into the outdoors, camping and fishing, in the ‘80s and ‘90s. But I guess what probably works throughout my moccasin days (or years) is that they’re inexpensive and they’re comfortable, simple. And year after year, pulled from the back of the closet, they’re a welcome harbinger of spring.