The Denim Dingo Boot
Crisis of 1974
Choosing Style Over Comfort
an 8th Grade Miscue

I’ve always been a practical shoes kind of guy. I like comfortable soles, no elevation on the heels, and enough flexibility that I can break into a run if I have to. Like the old joke goes, if you and I are attacked by a bear, I don’t have to run faster than the bear, I just have to run faster than you.
I feel blessed that I live in a day and age where comfortable shoes are plentiful and affordable. Look at the people in photographs from the late 19th or early 20th century. Sure, those folks look all fine and dandy with their fancy bowties and spiffy hats. But what in the heck are they wearing on their feet? Most of the time it looks like their shoes were made out of blocks of knotty pine, nails and cheap black leather—which in many cases I’m sure they were.

Did you know that for centuries the right and left shoes were made exactly the same and it was up to the wearer to break them in to fit differently shaped feet? No wonder people back then had shorter life spans. Their poor feet stopped working correctly by the time they were 27 years old.

The few times that I’ve picked style over comfort when choosing shoes, I’ve lived to regret it. In 1974 when I was in 8th grade I saw a magazine ad for Acme Denim Dingo cowboy boots. They were like regular cowboy boots only covered with blue jean-style denim. They even had orange stitching and brass rivets like Levis and a little pocket on the back. I realize now that it was the pocket that got me. You could put your lunch money, guitar picks or even a pocketknife in that little pocket. It was so cool. I just had to have a pair of those Acme Denim Dingo cowboy boots with the pocket in the back!

For the next few weeks I pestered my parents about the boots until they finally found a store in suburban Detroit that carried them. I remember on the drive home how heavy and big the box felt compared to my normal footwear, which at that time meant a pair of low-top canvas tennis shoes.

The next morning I put on my new cowboy boots and debated the pants-leg-in-the-boot look versus the pants-leg-outside-the-boot look. I finally went with the pants leg outside the boot, a good decision considering I was probably wearing bell-bottoms at the time. Later, in the halls of Anchor Bay Middle School, I could tell my boots were getting the attention they deserved by the way girls such as Susie Larsh and Carolyn Marrow were looking at them and then talking behind their hands. I liked the sound the boots made against the linoleum of the halls and the way the heels made me look an inch-and-a-half taller than I really was.

By the time the lunch bell rang I was feeling a bit of numbness right along the pinky toe and a sharp stabbing pain in the area where the big toe connects with the rest of the foot. I also noticed that I was beginning to limp a little and that the boots had a tendency to make me walk slightly pigeon toed. I always thought that cowboys walked funny because they spent so much time in the saddle but now it occurred to me that maybe it was their choice of footwear that kept them from ever winning the Ranch Days 100-yard dash!

By the time I limped from the bus stop to my house I was positive that I was going to pull off my boots and find bloody stumps where my feet used to be. In the privacy of my bedroom I was relieved to find only a few blisters on my feet and noticed that most of the numbness went away once blood circulation was restored.

For the next few weeks I tried to slip out of the house each morning before my parents could notice that I wasn’t wearing the new cowboy boots they had bought for me. They were expensive! And here I was, the ingrate son, refusing to wear them simply because they hurt my feet. What kind of example was I setting for my little brother?

My dilemma was solved a couple of months later when I went through a growth spurt of unprecedented proportions. During the summer of 1974 I shot up four inches to very nearly my adult height. My shoe size went from a 7 to a 9 in that same time period, rendering my entire collection of shoes, including the torturous Denim Dingo boots, obsolete.

Fortunately, I had a little brother a year-and-a-half younger than myself who could use some stylish hand-me-down blue jean cowboy boots.

To this day I avoid uncomfortable shoes as much as possible. I have a pair of black referee shoes that look like dress shoes from above and like tennis shoes on the bottom. They are perfect for weddings, funerals and for breaking into a run when the bears attack.