“For $5, you can wear them:” Life lessons in the bargain bin
BURTON W. COLE, COLUMNIST
By Burton W. Cole
The greatest gift my mother imparted was her philosophy for life, which I here sum up in this thought-provoking maxim:
“For $5, you can wear them.”
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.”
Like many junior high school kids, I’d zoomed into the fast lane of growing spurts. My feet had wandered out to a size 11 1/2 understanding, a difficult stretch to find in bargain basements.
I couldn’t wear size 11s without a can opener to pry open the fronts to relieve the pressure of toeing the line. But in size 12s, my feet swished when I walked.
So for maximum comfort — not to mention peer-pressure-approved style to survive junior high — I NEEDED the size 11 1/2 basketball shoes for a mere $30 (this was circa 1975; that’s $166 in today’s trading post dollars).
Mom found a fruity pair of size 12s instead for a fraction of the price and dignity.
That’s when she first said it: “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 making it to 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 back then. I was hoping to someday parlay this guilt into a sports car. (Spoiler alert: Grandma wasn’t feeling THAT guilty.)
On that particular day, I just wanted shoes I could wear without six pairs of socks and crumpled classified ads.
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, you better believe that you WILL wear them, young man!
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 nearly 50 years ago in my idealistic (other people will pay my bills) youth.
Since then, I became a parent — and finally graduated to grandparent. Not only do I balk (faint may be a better word) at paying $30 for shoes in today’s prices, whenever the kids begged for fancy shoes like the ones they saw on TV, I was the one who studied the shrubbery in the front yard and said, “It doesn’t look like our money trees have blossomed yet. Maybe next year.”
I turned into the one who pawed through the bins at “Fred’s Leftover Shoes and Used Pizza Emporium,” muttering, “Don’t they carry these in a size $2?”
I never confessed my shift in shopping politics to Mom or Grandma. It would have sent them into their “I-told-you-to-wait-until-you-had-children-of-your-own” victory dance. It’s not a pretty sight. I’d witnessed it far too often — although it was a little blurry through my glasses.
I bought ’em for $5.
Find Burt at the bakery outlet store, where he buys stale lunchbox pies for 10 cents each. Or write him for shopping tips at burton.w.cole@gmail.com, the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook or at www.burtonwcole.com.