Make-Believe in Boots

Sometimes a moral choice is between the lesser of two evils. Sometimes a moral choice is between the greater of two goods. This time, I chose the lesser evil and the greater good. I just gave away two pairs for cowboy boots, and I kept my favorite pair to take back to Tucson.

Not only that, I am wearing them! I am a man of considerable courage and determination, but I have not had enough of either to wear a pair of cowboy boots here in Minnesota.

I know that there are cowboy boots here in the Upper Midwest, but most of them have big, flat, entirely useless heels, and they are to be seen--sometimes near cows, but never near horses--getting up into the cab of a semi-truck, or up into the cab of a honking big farm tractor.

For people like me, cowboy boots are costume. The last horse I rode was a cranky gelding in Iowa. He had two reasons for being cranky: the second was that he was in Iowa. "Any of you ever rode before?" the stable owner asked. The hand of every Upward Bound kid from Waterloo shot up. "You!" the stable owner said, pointing to me and looking at my Mexican boots, "You get up on Knothead, there! He's a little too cranky for these kids."

That's how the Squarehead ended up on Knothead.

He was a tad cranky! That horse did not like the smell of Mexican leather. Or much else. Today I donated those boots to the Good Will. Tomorrow they will be in downtown St. Paul, pretending something else. I kept the boots I bought at Sheplers in Wichita, one summer, driving from Iowa to Tucson.

I put those boots on because I am thinking about our move to Tucson, and the need to pare down to the bare essentials. I find a little make-believe to be essential.

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