My grandfather, a poor Alabama farm boy who, with an eighth grade education, worked his way from bank examiner to president of the largest bank in Tampa, Florida back in the Fifties, was serious about shining shoes. I remember that every night, before getting ready for bed, he would sit in a chair in his bedroom and polish his shoes. If I happened to be spending the night -- as I did three or four times a week -- he would shine up my loafers.
There's not much need around here for fancy footwear -- but when my younger son had an event to attend that required a suit and shoes without so much manure on them, he came up to our house, asking if we had any black shoe polish.
I dug around in my closet and unearthed this swell little shoeshine box -- inherited from my grandfather.
When John and I married, he was in the Marine Corps -- and shiny dress shoes weren't just a good idea but a requirement. Those were also the days when I wore white shoes in summertime and had a little bottle of that chalky stuff, Still do, evidently, though my last white shoes were at least thirty years ago.
Most of these tins of shoe polish from the shoe shine kit are pre-bar code vintage -- possibly inherited with the kit, possibly leftovers from the Marine Corps days.
An odd thing to be nostalgic about -- but I'm thinking that, come Fall, I might need to purchase some loafers and polish them.
But white shoes? No way, no how. Not on a farm.