sneakers | Thornfield Hall

I meant to be quiet on our nature walks. A walk in the woods should be a meditation, I think. At least, that’s what I decided today, though it is not my nature to be silent. As I walk I muse on the slogan on my shirt, Arma virumque cano…, “Of arms and the man I sing…” which is the opening of Virgil’s epic poem, the Aeneid. I try to think of other slogans.

We chat about the acorns and the walnuts – we almost tripped on the walnuts, as usual. Then we see a strange animal, and wonder if it is a beaver, though it may have been a badger.

It is fairly quiet, though it it is not a wild park. It is an urban park, and in summer it is crowded with picnickers, fisherman, and people sprawling by the lake. There are slim trees, scraggy trails, and a paved trail, which we have chosen because it has rained for two weeks, and there’s mud everywhere.

Here’s what I’ve learned about hiking shoes: sneakers are the perfect footwear for almost every occasion. My white sneakers are for the the HD opera and art museums; my black sneakers are for the woods and the rainy days.

Today I mixed my shoes up, and my white sneakers will never be pristine again. The black sneakers don’t show the mud, because they are already crusted with mud, so what’s a little more mud? “Here’s mud in your eye!” says Hazel in Dorothy Parker’s “Big Blonde.” This is how Hazel toasts the cleaning lady after she is resurrected from suicide.

What did I see in nature today? Dozens of monarch butterflies, which are now an endangered species, with their flight patterns disturbed by climate change, so I am thrilled to see them, ghosts from the past, from a time when scientists warned us about climate change, before it had dried up rivers and caused never-ending wildfires. .

We also saw a hawk – there’s always a hawk – they soar, they swoop, they’re beautiful from a distance, but I don’t like the look of them close up. There were geese on the lake – there are always geese. And there was a goldfinch, and a Great Horned owl.

At the end of the walk, which came much too soon, I told my Other Half the plot of Charlotte Bronte’s Villette, because he had never heard of this masterpiece. I said off the top of my head that the psychedelic scene is Hesse-esque.” Why did I say this? There’s an academic article lurking in there.

And then we are peaceful and silent on the way home.

Before the age of clunky running shoes, circa 1975 – and by the way, my first running shoes were Brooks Villanovas, recommended for beginners because of the cheap price – I never ran a step in my life. God, no. What was I, a jock? I walked around the track in gym. My friends and I walked to class, we walked downtown, we walked to the mall, and we walked to the park. Every summer we shed our loafers, Earth shoes, or whatever and slipped into canvas shoes, known as tennis shoes or tennies. Oh, we didn’t play tennis. But tennies were ideal for our kind of walking.

In other parts of the country such shoes were called sneakers, as I was aware from reading literature set in New York. But in the midwest the term tennis shoes prevailed. You can confirm this by Ray Bradbury’s sentimental novel, Dandelion Wine (1957), which is set in a midwestern town. The first chapter is a paean to tennis shoes.

…Douglas saw the tennis shoes in the bright store window. He glanced quickly away, but his ankles were seized, his feet suspended, then rushed. The earth spun; the shop awnings slammed their canvas wings overhead with the thrust of his body running. His mother and father and brother walked quietly on both sides of him. Douglas walked backward, watching the tennis shoes in the midnight window left behind.

Although I prefer Bradbury’s science fiction, I certainly know the magic of tennis shoes. In our family, buying tennies was an exciting summer ritual. My mother took us to Kinney Shoes, a long-defunct chain, to buy Keds tennis shoes. These shoes, as I remember, came in white, red, navy blue, or light blue. Mother begged me not to buy white. Though they could be washed in the washing machine, she thought they looked dirty after a few days’ wear. (She was right.) But after donning our tennies, we mothers and daughters had a spring in our step as we did yard work, walked to the small neighborhood store, or dragged lawn chairs from the car when we attended ghastly Little League games. Cousins and male friends wore black canvas shoes with white rubber toes – they were usually Keds, but I do not know if they were called tennis shoes.

Are tennis shoes and sneakers the same shoe? Perhaps, perhaps not. According to a 1980’s Webster’s Dictionary, a tennis shoe is “a sports shoe with a rubber sole (usually pebbled) and a stitched canvas upper that laces over the instep (1890-95).” A sneaker is “a high or low shoe, usually of fabric, such as canvas, with a rubber or synthetic sole (1590-1600).” It’s a fine line, isn’t it?

This summer I am wearing tennis shoes for the first time in years. They are so light, and perfect for going out in the yard or a quick trip to a store. No arch support, of course. You don’t go hiking in tennies. But they are more practical than sliders, flip-flops, or sandals, through which small branches (and where do they come from?) seem to wedge themselves when you take a walk.

Any thoughts on the difference between tennies and sneakers? What do you/did you call them?