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Editor's note: A little bug bothered Burt this week, so while he's home taking a nap, we present this Cole Clasic originally published May 20, 1997. Use it as Christmas shopping advice.
I believe the single, greatest gift my mother instilled in me was her philosophy for life, which can be summed up in this thought-provoking maxim:
"For $5, you can wear them."
It was, at the time, a difficult truth to embrace. Now, I guide my whole life by it.
Mom first declared this wisdom over the shoe bin at the "Last Chance For Sale Before We Shred it into Bedding for Aging Livestock Discount Store."
My feet wandered out to a size 11 1/2 understanding, an unpopular stretch for discount shoe manufacturers.
I couldn't wear size 11s without a can opener to pry open the fronts a bit to relieve the pressure. But in size 12s, my feet swished forward and backward when I walked, never minding that I was trying to maintain a single direction.
So for maximum comfort -- not to mention peer-pressure-approved style to survive junior high -- I NEEDED the $30 (this was circa 1975) size 11 1/2 shoes. Basketball shoes were preferred. Or maybe a pair of stylish boots.
But Mom found a fruity pair of size 12s for a fraction of the price and dignity.
That's when she first said it. That's when she uttered that time-honored phrase, "For $5, you can wear them."
Then she tossed me a wad of newspaper to stuff inside the toes.
I did what any self-respecting kid would do. I called Grandma.
Grandparents realize they are aging fast and must reform if they want any hope of reaching heaven. So they try to bribe their way out of the mistakes they made with their own children by lavishing gifts on the grandkids.
At least, that's how I had it figured. I was hoping to someday parlay this guilt into a sports car.
But on that particular day, I just wanted something small -- well, figuratively -- and reasonable. That day, I just wanted shoes I could wear without six pairs of socks.
I forgot that it was Grandma who taught Mom how to shop. I didn't realize Grandma still had a black belt in power bargain hunting -- and that she found the belt for 12 cents at a yard sale.
With the thrill of the hunt glistening in her eye, Grandma accepted the challenge. But not MY challenge. It was the challenge of outdoing another bargain shopper.
Grandma returned from her safari with another pair of ugly size 12s -- for $3! And for that, I WOULD wear them.
I lost interest in pursuing the sports car and determined to become a journalist. I would expose their whole scam in print. And with the Pulitzer Prize money, I would buy a pair of shoes that fit.
That was 20-some years ago in my idealistic youth.
Now I'm the parent. Now, when the kids beg for the shoes on TV, I'm the one who studies the shrubbery in the front yard and says, "It doesn't look like our money trees have blossomed yet. Maybe next year."
Now I'm the one who paws through the bins at "Fred's You Won't Believe We're Actually Selling This Junk and Used Pizza Emporium," muttering, "Don't they carry these in size $2?"
I haven't confessed my shift in shopping politics to Mom or Grandma. It would only send them into their "I-told-you-to-wait-until-you-had-children-of-your-own" victory dance.
It's not a pretty sight. I know. I've witnessed it far too often -- although it is a little blurry through my glasses. I bought 'em for $5.
Burt will return live next week. Find him early at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com, on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook, or at www.burtonwcole.com