A couple days ago I posted a photo of my shoe collection on Instagram and briefly captioned the photo with a take on ASAP Rocky “F*ckin Problem.” This started a friendly discussion with a couple people in my circle. Anyone who knows me knows that I love shoes in particular Jordans. I do have my fair share of shoes that aren’t Jordan’s, I have some Lebron’s, Kobe’s, and even a couple pair of Curry’s. Shoes have always been a big part of my life and I never indeed expressed the actual reason as to why this is the case. Yes, I love the way a fresh pair of shoes look that’s a given. Shoes are the exclamation point to an outfit, it doesn’t matter what you are wearing if you don’t have something clean on your feet your fit is null and void. But my love for shoes goes way deeper than aesthetics, growing up shoes ultimately became a sign of how much my pops loved me.

My mom and pops split when I was 10 years old, and that is when the war began. Quickly I saw less and less of my pops. If I didn’t have basketball or football games, I wouldn’t see my pops. Weekends with him was few and far between. My pops got a new relationship, and just like many other kids in this situation, I felt my pops replaced me and didn’t love me anymore. My pops was never absent by any means, he would still show up to every sporting event to cheer me on, but weekends with him wasn’t really a thing. It would happen but it was frequent, and that stung as a kid. Ultimately, him purchasing every pair of Jordans I asked for replaced his presence, and I began to equate each shoe purchase with how much he loved me. I can recall the very moment Jordans become more than just shoes for me, the pair that showed me how much my dad truly loved me. I was 11 years old attending Bret Harte Middle School. The year was 1998 and the shoes where the blue and grey Jordan XIII’s. I was telling my pops about this release for months, I never wanted a pair of shoes as bad as I wanted these.

 I still remember that day, I went to school and talked big shit about my pops buying me these shoes. If you don’t remember or don’t know, Jordans used to drop during the weekday, there were no Saturday releases so to get Jordans back then you had to miss school or show up late. My mom was having none of that, I had to go to school, but it didn’t matter to me because I knew my dad was buying them, and I was going to kill my peers the next day. I run home after school super excited. My cousins who never really got Jordans they had the shoes I wanted on, they all outside showing them off and I’m not pressed at all because I know my pops got bought them. 1998 was a different time, there was no text messaging, my pops had a cell phone, but it wasn’t attached to him like it is today. So I blew that phone up, but I couldn’t get in touch with him. Every passing minute was killing me, but then my pops finally pulled up. I was super excited, but once he asked why I kept calling him, I knew. He forgot, he didn’t have them, I was crushed. I cried myself to sleep that night, I was an emotional 11-year-old, I cried about everything. Maybe, that’s why I don’t cry now, I wasted all my tears as a kid on shoes and video games. The next day was even worse, I had to go to school and look at my peers who I just talked down to the day before. I didn’t want to go to school but my mom didn’t play that game she forced me to go to school. So I had to face the firing squad, and I had nothing to stand one. They all wanted to know where were my shoes and I had no answers, my dad didn’t get them. While sitting in 5th period the phone rang and it was for me. My pops was here to pick me up, usually getting picked up early from school was an exciting thing, but I didn’t want to see my pops I was still upset. Honestly, I don’t think I ever acknowledged him I just walked to the car because I knew what was about to happen. He was going to take me to McDonald’s and beg for my forgiveness and explain how they are just shoes. That’s not what happened, he told me he had found a pair, and we are going to buy them. I was so excited, and in just a flash I was no longer mad. Once again at 11 years old had no clue what all this meant, I knew there wasn’t a pair in LA, and we had to drive somewhere out of the way to get them, and we did we drove to Thousand Oaks in rush hour traffic. My pops was so committed he sat in traffic for 50 miles, it felt like days. But once we made it to the mall I was hyped, we ran to footlocker asked for my size, I tried them on only to find out my feet had grown. My toes were touching the end of the shoes, I would only be able to wear them for months maybe. This was the moment shoes became the sign of love. They just so happened to have the next half size up, but that meant I needed an adult pair of shoes. I was no longer a kid, at least in shoe size. Half a shoe size equaled $50 more. In 1998, buying an 11-year-old $150 shoes was absolutely crazy, to put that in perspective that $230 now. I told my dad I didn’t need them, but he knew how much I wanted these shoes. So he bought them knowing I was going to wreck this shoes. At 11 years old I had no clue how to properly take care of shoes, but that didn’t matter he wanted his son to be happy.

My family didn’t have a lot of money coming up, we weren’t poor, but we had enough to get by. I had my share of nights of coming home to realize the lights or the gas was off. But we always had food, I always a had a roof over my head. I didn’t equate when my pops would come through to give money on a bill with love. It was the times in high school when he would show up at lunch with a fresh pair of Jordans I could switch into, that was love for me. The lengths my pops went to obtain something so crazy as a pair of shoes let me know how much he loved me. It’s crazy, it doesn’t make it right, especially because he did so many other things in my life. He fought to stay a presence in my life during the worst of times in my parent’s relationship. I know my pops loves me, I am the man I am today because of him. He has made me a better husband, not because he was the greatest example but the conversation we can have about the mistakes he made and how I can avoid them. He has made me the man he wished he was for me.

Yes, we live in a materialistic world. Yes, buying expensive shoes, especially for my community, is crazy because I know parents who have missed a critical bill just so that their child could have a pair of shoes that has become somewhat of a status symbol. But before we chalk it up as financially irresponsible decisions think about what that pair of shoes means to the person buying it. For me as a kid it meant love, today its a reward for all of the hard work and sacrifices my parents made to get me here. I know after reading this some people still might not get it, they won’t understand waiting in line for hours (something I don’t do) for an overly priced sometimes ugly shoes. Ask a friend who is a sneakerhead why, and maybe, just maybe you’ll find out it is more than shoes.