Growing up in Pace was not easy for any of us who didn't have much money. When Stig shared his story with me, it resonated deeply because I had a similar experience but not just with shoes but clothes from department stores like K-Mart, TG&Y and *Zayres. The kids we grew up with were a shallow bunch, and to this day some still are.
Stig's grandma did the most she could for her son's little boy because his mama, Barb, ruled his daddy's life and bank account and she resented Stig just for being born, “stealing every bit of fun she felt she deserved.” Stig's dad could have put his foot down, but it would have meant giving up whatever it was that she used to cast whatever spell she had on him. While not wealthy, Gran was well off enough to take care of him. On occasion, his parents would throw a bone, usually already chewed on.
A few days before he started the 6th grade, Gran took Stig to University Mall for a little shopping for new clothes for school. Stig's mom told her she already bought him some shoes and would drop the boxes off the night before, in time his first day. I remember Stig was excited because he thought his mama was going to be different for a change and take an interest in him. Gran spent around $400 on Stig’s new clothes—back then that was a lot for pants and shirts, even if she hadn’t taken him to the more expensive stores in University Mall. Gran took him to Chick-fil-A for dinner after their Saturday evening shopping spree. Stig was so excited to show off his new wardrobe to me and even more excited that Barb would be over later to drop off the three pairs of his brand new shoes.
He had worn flip flops all summer because a kid pushed him into Pond Creek and he came out missing one of his Reeboks that he worked hard to pay for after his other shoes were too tight to put on, much less walk in. He had thrown out his shoes from the previous year because his already large feet were too big for them and they were basically worn out. How often have you seen a 6th grader with size 11 shoes? He’s currently size 15. Stig and Gran both felt they should have stopped off at Athlete's Foot or Shoe City to buy a pair of British Knights, LA Gear, or another pair of Reeboks like the ones he had before the Pond Creek incident. We both went to school the next day, he went to a different school than me but when I got home, he called me to tell me how his day went and his Gran wanted to know if I wanted to go with them to Moores and Shoe City. I gladly tagged along. Our school district had a dress code that included no shorts or open-toed shoes, and as much as Stig wanted to wear his flip-flops to school, he couldn't.
Barb, Stig’s mama, played a cruel prank typical of her mean-spirited nature. Knowing that Stig's shoe size was currently size 11 and would probably be an 11.5 or 12 by next summer, she had gone to Payless Shoesource next to TG&Y and bought him three pairs of shoes: a pair of brown cowboy boots (Stig's calves were too defined even for the boots, and given the fact that he was already almost 6 feet tall, the heels would have made him uncomfortably tall), black fake suede dress shoes with tassels on the top that looked like something our old male teachers or preachers would wear, and the ones meant to be his shoes for everyday use—a pair of white Pro Wings sneakers, with velcro, which no kid wanted. Not only did she knowingly buy brands and styles that were horrible, but she also bought size 10, fully aware that he was a size 11 and could possibly be a size 12 by the time all three pairs were broken in. The kicker was she dropped his shoes off at 8 PM, knowing all the stores in our area were closed and he was stuck with ugly, out-of-style shoes that didn’t fit.
Being someone who never wanted to miss his first day at school, Stig crammed his feet into the Pro Wings shoes that were a size too small and endured a whole day of the other kids making fun of him and his cheap shoes. He could barely walk because his toes were scrunched up. To add salt to his wound, he was given two days detention for taking his shoes off in one of his classes. He had tried to loosen the velcro and had also taken off his socks to make more room in the shoes, but nothing worked. Gran called the school to raise hell, and the secretary hung up on her after telling her it was the guardian's responsibility to ensure the child had proper attire and his insubordination, which resulted in his detention, would not be tolerated by the staff. From that, Stig became a force to be reckoned with by virtue of Gran, and she told him to stand up for himself and take his shoes off in every class if he wanted to because she read the handbook, including the dress code and it never said wear shoes at all times—just no open-toed shoes.
In that particular class, which fell right after his PE class, he would slide out of the Nikes, British Knights or Reeboks Gran bought him to replace Barb’s horrible shoes and let everyone around him enjoy the aroma of his size 11s, sometimes removing his socks after PE just to make a point to his last-period teacher, the one that sent him to detention. Stig and I have laughed at this story for years and wondered if any of his classmates secretly enjoyed the revenge on that bitchy teacher. To this day, Stig stands up for himself, and when he's not sporting a pair of Doc Martens, Hokas, or Nikes, he is walking around showing off his bare size 15s.
Thanks for reading Stig's story! Got a similar tale or a funny school memory? Share it in the comments below. If this story resonated with you and you'd like to support us, your contributions would be greatly appreciated. Cheers to the resilience of kids like Stig!
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