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Zips
I told a story today at lunch that I hadn't thought about in years. Around the time when I was three, my dad was stationed for a year in Korea. (At some point I got it mixed up that he was fighting in the Korea war, probably because of also watching episodes of M*A*S*H.) When he came back, he brought back lots of pairs of shoes, because they were extremely cheap there. My favorites were Zips sneakers, navy blue, with a velcro strap. I'm sure I wasn't allowed to have velcro sneakers before I learned how to tie my shoes, since that's what happened when it came to watches -- no digital watch for me until I could read a dial, so I guess I was some sort of shoe-tying prodigy. I remember the first time I did it alone was at my grandmother's old house, but I'm not sure how I old I was. But I digress.
Zips. I loved them. My father must have bought 5 pairs of them, each in a different size getting successively higher by a half. Between the ages of 4 and 6, whenever my old sneakers got too small or too raggedy, they get thrown away then my mom would open the closet and reach up to the top shelf and pull down a new box with a new pair. While I still had to go shopping occasionally for dress shoes and was aware of the concept of buying them in the store, I did in some ways believe there to be an endless supply of my favorite play shoes stored up in my closet.
What struck me about this story today is how excited I was everytime, even though the shoes were exactly the same color and style. I didn't get sick of them. During this time was also the period of eating peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches with cheetos every day for lunch for nearly a year. So often as a kid I remember being denied certain things because I was told I didn't really want them or I would get sick of them when the trend was over. As a kid I supposedly wasn't able to commit to a shirt or toy in a way that would make it worth the price. But when I think of children, I think of their uncanny ability to repeat things over and over and have things repeated back to them ad nauseum. How many times have I read the same book every night at bedtime as part of a strict ritual? Or how the same movie or episode of Barney gets watched every afternoon? They like to hear the same stories, like to play the same game over and over, and I couldn't count the times I've heard the delighted cry of "do it again!"
I mean, sure, children can be fickle and have short-attention spans as well, but I'm not even sure it's with more frequency than adults. My father was the champion of buying pieces of exercise equipment and never using them. We had a rower and a cross country skiier and a stationary bike in the basement where I logged on ten times the number of hours he did on all three, and I wasn't exactly a regular exerciser.
When I get obsessed with a song and listen to it on repeat for three days and nights (or longer), now I will think that I'm just tapping into my inner child and the ability to have endless curiosity. As I've become an adult I've become more adept at intentional focus, even if I don't feel like it. But I also should just go with it if it naturally occurs. As long as I'm not torturing the people around me, which is probably always a risk.
On an unrelated note, I've nearly fallen asleep sitting up twice while typing this. And I got more sleep last night than I have in awhile.
Zips. I loved them. My father must have bought 5 pairs of them, each in a different size getting successively higher by a half. Between the ages of 4 and 6, whenever my old sneakers got too small or too raggedy, they get thrown away then my mom would open the closet and reach up to the top shelf and pull down a new box with a new pair. While I still had to go shopping occasionally for dress shoes and was aware of the concept of buying them in the store, I did in some ways believe there to be an endless supply of my favorite play shoes stored up in my closet.
What struck me about this story today is how excited I was everytime, even though the shoes were exactly the same color and style. I didn't get sick of them. During this time was also the period of eating peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches with cheetos every day for lunch for nearly a year. So often as a kid I remember being denied certain things because I was told I didn't really want them or I would get sick of them when the trend was over. As a kid I supposedly wasn't able to commit to a shirt or toy in a way that would make it worth the price. But when I think of children, I think of their uncanny ability to repeat things over and over and have things repeated back to them ad nauseum. How many times have I read the same book every night at bedtime as part of a strict ritual? Or how the same movie or episode of Barney gets watched every afternoon? They like to hear the same stories, like to play the same game over and over, and I couldn't count the times I've heard the delighted cry of "do it again!"
I mean, sure, children can be fickle and have short-attention spans as well, but I'm not even sure it's with more frequency than adults. My father was the champion of buying pieces of exercise equipment and never using them. We had a rower and a cross country skiier and a stationary bike in the basement where I logged on ten times the number of hours he did on all three, and I wasn't exactly a regular exerciser.
When I get obsessed with a song and listen to it on repeat for three days and nights (or longer), now I will think that I'm just tapping into my inner child and the ability to have endless curiosity. As I've become an adult I've become more adept at intentional focus, even if I don't feel like it. But I also should just go with it if it naturally occurs. As long as I'm not torturing the people around me, which is probably always a risk.
On an unrelated note, I've nearly fallen asleep sitting up twice while typing this. And I got more sleep last night than I have in awhile.
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