I like to read the "Asking Amy" advice column in the paper. Anyone who can get people writing to them to ask what to do when their son-in-law borrowed $3700 and now claims it was a gift, or how to handle the sticky situation of guests who will talk the legs off all your chairs and won't go home has my total respect!
The other day in her blog, she mentioned the great "Shoes on or shoes off" debate.
Amy is a "shoes on" woman. She says she is not all that fastidious about cooties in the house ("I have middling standards when it comes to cleanliness") and she grew up in farm country, where she would pull a carrot out of the ground or pluck an apple off the tree, and eat them without more than a quick wipe on her jeans.
Plus, she lives way way up in New York State, where it's often cold, and shoes are good for keeping the feet warm.
She said to Mo Rocca on CBS Sunday Morning, “If Erin Brokovich (sic) comes to my house and says I have dioxin on my shoes, I’ll take them off — otherwise … I’m good.”
On the other foot, I was raised in a house where the woman in charge waged a relentless battle against grit and grime and dust and dirt. The wooden floors were polished to a gleam like that of a fresh Baldwin apple; the carpets were shampooed with clocklike regularity. Shoes were taken off wherever one entered that house, and woe betide he who tried to slip back into his bedroom for a forgotten textbook (laughter) or pack of Kools and left a mark anywhere.
Maybe that's why they named me Mark!
So, all these decades later, I kick off my kicks in the garage and I could no more wear shoes in the house than I could walk down Belair Road without any pants on.
I was going to say "walk through the mall," but there is no one in the mall to see me pantsless, so what's the diff?
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