If you grew up in the 60s, you were present when casual footwear morphed into some kind of personal, political, religious and/or economic statement.
“Did you wear Jesus Sandals, Woodstock Sandals, Zorries, Thongs, Flip-flops or Birkenstocks when you were a kid?” I asked my friend Steve.
“I haven’t heard the word zorries in at least 40 years,” he replied slowly.
“Is that what you wore?”
“No.”
I waited a moment, then sighed. “Then what did you wear?”
“On my feet?”
“Yes!”
“What were the choices again?
“Did you wear Jesus Sandals, Woodstock Sandals, Zorries, Thongs, Flip-flops or Birkenstocks?” I repeated.
“We couldn’t afford Birkenstocks,” he replied. “We had to settle for Burkensteins.”
“Burkensteins?”
“That’s what my mother called them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you making this up?”
“There were four of us kids,” he said. “We didn’t have a lot of money.”
“Steve…”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If you remember the 60s,” he said, “then you probably weren’t there.”
I think it’s safe here to conclude that my original point has been amply made.
