Hidden gem brings back memories of Daddy
Recently, while looking for something in our laundry room, I frantically moved things about trying unsuccessfully to maintain the neatness of the shelves. I carefully picked up a bottle of bleach for a quick look behind it and then moved on to the multiple containers of detergent.
I continued with my “seek and find” mission only to be disappointed by not locating what I needed. I was becoming frustrated when my eyes caught sight of a red box tucked deep in the corner of a bottom shelf.
No, it was not what I was searching for, but I immediately knew exactly what it was. I had to move several things to reach it and could hardly wait to open it. It was my daddy’s shoe shining kit and it looked exactly as I remembered it as a child.
Time had not altered it at all in the dark confines of the laundry room. Before I opened it, I took a minute to feel the faux leather finish of the box. On the top of the box, still visible in a gold ink that had slightly tarnished, were the words “Iona Electric Shoe Polisher.”
I quickly opened the hinged box, allowing many memories to escape. I grabbed them before they could get away because I wanted to visit with them a while.
The cardstock the directions were printed on still fit tightly into the top portion of the box and appeared to be new. Only an occasional black or brown polish stain was visible. I smiled as I read about the polisher, which was guaranteed for five years. “The White Glove Way to a Better Shine” was its proud motto.
The shoe brush was the first thing I noticed as I took inventory of the box’s contents. It was long and rectangular and had a wooden base. The thick black bristles had seen better days, but when I gently rubbed my fingers across them, I realized they definitely had a few more shines left in them.
I couldn’t stop touching the wooden part of the brush because I knew Daddy’s hand was probably the last one to hold it.
His grip had worn away some of the finish of the wood as he polished his shoes for almost five decades. Over the years, I watched many times as he -- strong and with a purpose -- quickly brushed back and forth across his shoes until a shine appeared so brightly you could almost see your reflection.
“Mark, you should never go anywhere with un-polished shoes,” Daddy would say. “Men are judged by the shine of their shoes.”
I have never forgotten that.
I reluctantly put the brush down and surveyed the rest of this prized possession. A bottle of black liquid wax was still intact and still made a liquid noise when I gave it a shake. The electric shoe buffer had its cord still neatly and tightly wrapped around it. The various buffer pad attachments sat together in a row ready to bring a slick shine to the leather surface of a shoe.
Everything was still in its place, as Daddy always left it.
Although the shoe polisher was only guaranteed for five years, it still worked when I plugged it in more than 50 years later. The motor ran a little slower than it had in its prime, but the sound it made took me on a journey far back in time. I spent many Saturday nights with Daddy and this polisher getting our not-so-expensive shoes looking their best for Sunday church.
Even the scent of wax and polish still prevalent in the box opened doors to long ago that had been closed for many years. I closed my eyes to visualize as many moments with Daddy as my mind could remember. I cherished each and every one of them.
Daddy died almost 13 years ago and his electric shoe polisher kit hasn’t been used since. As I closed the lid, my eyes began to tear up.
Even though I don’t have Daddy with me anymore, I’m still fortunate to have some of his personal things. Those are the next best thing.
Father’s Day is bittersweet for me. I suppose it always will be. But at least I got to visit with the memories of a little tow-headed boy sitting at his Daddy’s feet learning how to properly shine a shoe.
Sometimes we don’t find what we’re looking for. Instead, we happily stumble upon something much better. That’s what happened to me that day. I can’t even remember what I was originally looking for but I certainly enjoyed the time I got to spend with Daddy -- and that was the best Father’s Day gift I could ever receive!
Mark Ballard’s column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; or become a subscriber to Mark’s Facebook page.
This story was originally published June 21, 2015 at 12:00 AM with the headline "Hidden gem brings back memories of Daddy."