It was the (almost) last leg of a trip home from out of the city for the day. It was early evening, Sunday evening of Labour Day weekend, and I was in the midst of that “I just want to get home” sort of befuddled-fatigue state of body and mind. I was on the subway, where of course you look anywhere but where you risk making eye contact with anyone. Most people are looking at their phone screens. Or you intently read, perhaps memorize, the backlit ads that run along over the windows. I was staring at the floor, and people’s feet, specifically noticing footware. It occurred to me, this being an evening holiday weekend crowd, the style of footwear was a little different from what might be on the rush hour commute.
There were flourescent runners, glitter-covered sneakers, a multitude of sandals (with and without socks) and flip floppy things, along with regular old Nikes and Addidas and the like. And one pair of black dress shoes, with ankle socks, with the wearer sporting cargo shorts. My thought: That’s just wrong. But then, the Lord does seem to love variety, in humanity and in all of creation (Genesis 1).
So fella, go ahead and rock those black dress shoes with your cargo shorts. Not that you need my permission. Someone else made you.