Hansel's Shoe Co.

My grillz post will have to wait because this story is too good postpone. It might work to get us more support though.

So, here we are, back in Groton, Connecticut. We were getting ready to go to church this morning. It's the church where my dad grew up and we consider it to be our "home church." Getting ready to go ended up being quite an ordeal. You see, when my dad, Michaela and Caleb went to Bosnia, they packed very lightly, and much of what they packed was stuff that was "bez veza" (not important), so that some of it could be left behind so they'd have more room to bring other stuff back. Since my dad is going back to Bosnia from time to time, he also left some clothes and stuff there so he'd have them when he returns. In all this planning, the fact that they had several weeks here in CT before returning to Denver managed to be overlooked.

So here we are in CT, and NO ONE has anything suitable to wear to church. We manage to dress people ok though, but my dad was stuck wearing these slacks and the only pair of shoes he had so wear with them were these old nasty white sneakers. Wisely, he went to look through the closets here, at his mother's house, to see if he could find something that he might have left here in the past. Sure enough, he found a pair of dress shoes. Even though they didn't look all that great with his slacks, they were a million times better than those sneakers.

We get to church and my dad starts scraping the soles of his shoes on the asphalt as if he's trying to get something off of them. Well he said that something on them was sticky and he was picking up all manner of dirt and sticks and trailing them behind him. Fortunately, he got most of that stuff off before we entered the church.

The good part didn't come until after Sunday school. I'd actually been looking all over for my dad. Turns out that he was meeting with the pastor. So right before the service starts, he comes out the door that leads to the hall that leads to pastor's office in the front of the church. He's walking down the aisle, saying hi to people on the way. Then I realized, that as he was approaching, there seemed to be a black trail of something behind him.

When he gets to the pew he informs that the soles of his shoes are falling apart. Now, when I say falling apart, i don't mean that they're coming off in one nice hunk like normal shoes. No, they're disintegrating with every step! Apparently there was the right combination of heat and moisture where they'd been stored that the rubber had just rotted. Anyway, after the service, he stayed in one place for a while to talk to people. But sooner or later, you know he had to walk.

It was so funny! The floor where his feet were at in front of the pew was black. There were chunks of rubber. And then when he walked huge pieces of the sole would just fall off. At one point I was off somewhere talking to someone and I went looking for him. All I had to do was follow the trail of black rubber and there he was! I mean seriously, who need bread crumbs when you have a "find-your-way" system built right into the shoe? I told him he should go into business (hence the title).

Anyway, that was my funny story of the day. What a freaking missionary!