While still battling the heat of August, your mom would stop the summer fun to take you to Nienal’s Shoes to get fitted for your new pair of school shoes, signaling the sunsetting of another summer. Sweating in your shorts and tank top, you would begrudgingly enter the cool store where Mr. Nienal would place your stockinged foot in the metal contraption, instructing you to push your heel into the back of the sizer (first right then left) and stand tall. Sliding the metal side bar to the end of your big toe, your shoe size would be noted.
Mr. Nienal would then disappear into the back rooms, returning with several boxes of various “sensible” shoes guaranteed to last the whole year. Mom would review as you walked back and forth to determine which pair was the winner, all the while you examined the shoes from various angles on the mirrors stationed at floor level. Once picked, Mom would slyly ask for a half size larger knowing that by the time snowflakes started to fall, your feet would have grown into them.
Once all of the family had been sized and supplied, we kids were gratefully released back to our summer tasks of riding bikes and playing ghost in the graveyard. And that night, knowing that this special time was coming to an end, the air was a little sweeter, the wind a little softer, and the whisper of summer freedom just a bit more noticeable.