Genealogical Artifact

From My Sole

Shoes help tell a person’s story. They are the first part to touch new soil. Tales of their owner’s travels are written all over their base. There is one pair of shoes that has my history written all over their soles; My Converse All Stars. This specific pair of shoes has its own unique story.

I can remember getting my first pair of All-Stars. They were simple yet classy and seemed to complicate my whole wardrobe. It is a shoe style that has been around for ages and outlasted time and many styles. My second pair of All Stars stand as testament to that.

I wore out my first pair of All Stars during the latter half of my high school career and decided to get a brand new pair. It was easy for me to throw out the old stench-ridden, disintegrating pair for the radiant, whole new ones. I was very careful with my new pair and watched every step. After I returned home I would take my shoes off and clean them until they could be placed back on the shelf and sold as new. I loved being able to see their brilliant white glow out of the corner of my eye.

My friends and I had matching pairs and in our Converse pride we would compare the conditions of our shoes to one another.  Our shoes got dirtier and dirtier, and cleaning mine became less important and more of an unnecessary chore. The dirt was now memories and the rips - scars to brag about. My adventures really began to take a toll on my beloved shoes. Soon the All Star logo couldn’t be read and the rubber lining around the outside cracked and began separating itself from the shoe.

I remember being bored in class and picking and pulling at the peeling rubber. The inner left side began to entirely fall apart. I didn’t want it to completely rip off, so it hung of the side for weeks and clicked against the side of my shoe when I walked. One day I stepped on the flailing rubber strip with my other foot, sending myself flailing down the hallway. After that I decided it was time to just tear it off.

I used to take care in putting on my shoes, but soon found it valuable to save the seconds wasted in tying and untying laces. One morning, while in a rush to put my shoes on, I heard threads pop and the side of the shoe just gave way. I had ripped my shoe. Soon after, the insides wore down and insert came off. For the next week my socks would stick to the glue that once held the insert together. None of these complications could stop me from wearing them; they were too special to dispose of.  

These shoes help tell my story because they are a part of it. I bought these shoes while living in Japan and they accompanied me on many journeys all over the country. They carried me through some of the best years of high school. These shoes were the first part of me to touch American ground after living abroad for so many years. They also led my first steps onto my college campus and pulled me through my first year. I was even wearing my All Stars when I won first place in the DanceSport Country Polka competition. No matter the task, weather or terrain, my Converse always seemed to be my first choice. I did everything in these shoes.  I even remember getting away with wearing them for a couple basketball and softball practices. I biked, hiked, walked, danced, and ran miles in these shoes. They were so comfortable and seemed appropriate for almost every occasion.

They are marked invisibly with memories only I can see as well as more visible reminders. On the tip of my right shoe there is a blue smiley face. I was having a rough day during finals week so I drew this smiley face. It has lasted through puddles and dirt and stands as a little reminder that when times get tough to just keep walking with a smile on my face.

Nowadays these shoes aren’t worn as much as the other pairs I now own. Occasionally I do put them back on. I have yet to throw them away or buy another pair of All Stars to replace them. They’ve taken me so many places and accompanied me on multiple life-changing endeavors. Each scuff, stain, and tear represents a memory; memories that I’m sweetly reminded of every time I put my All-Stars on.

Artist's Statement:

It was hard for me at first to deicide on an object that I could write about that was really important to me. My first thought was: what items would I save in a fire? Then I thought: what do I want to pass down to my kids or grandkids one day? I don't think I would save these shoes in a fire, or that my kids would appreciate a pair of smelly sneakers, but these are truly of importance to me.

            Looking at my shoes’ life, it is interesting how much I cared for them and babied them at the beginning, but then as their novelty wore off, I didn't pay them as much attention and they took a beating. Now after being through so much with them, I once again treasure my All Stars.

I decided to tell my shoes’ story and then introduce how they are a part of my story. It was fun for me to think back and remember all the things I did in these shoes. I had never thought much about why I still wear them in there devastated state, or why I even have them after all these years. In my first draft I didn’t really mention the stories that the shoes and I were in, rather just the story and life cycle of the shoes. I decided to tell the shoes’ own story and include how they are a part of my own history because that is what makes them important to me.

            In one of my classes we are conducting interviews in the community about lost objects. What I have found so far is that objects that people hold near and dear usually are special because they have memories attached to them. That is what separated my converse from a new pair or any other shoe. That is why I can’t throw them away. These All Stars have become more than just a pair of shoes to me.