This week I've been cleaning out my closet at the parents' house. There are loads of old clothes I've not worn in ages. Today I took a payload of boxed wearables to the Goodwill. Among the pile of old threads I found my pair of Pride marching shoes, from the good ol' days — my freshman and sophomore years (seems like a LONG time ago).
Those shoes carried me through a lot. I glide-stepped my way across Owen Field numerous times, feeling the squishy soles impact the sacred grass. Those kicks kissed the turf of the Cotton Bowl, the Rose Bowl and the Sugar Bowl, and eight-to-fived 6 miles in the Tournament of Roses parade. Lots of good memories in those puppies.
Look closely on the soles and you can still see the faint remains of horse manure — a gift from the 'Roses parade...it was a virtual minefield.
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