Brushing up the past


Today, I taught my 12-year old son how to polish his shoes. He was intrigued by the process and pleased with the outcome of eyeing his scruffy shoes looking much more presentable after a coating of bootblack and brushing.

Even a small and not too difficult task, I felt good, having passed on to my son something that my father taught me when I was a kid. Till this day, whenever I polish my shoes the smell of the bootblack and the brushing and polishing to coal a dull sheen from the leather always reminds me of me being fascinated by this thing that my father bought me.

It was a boys’ thing, something passed from father to son for generations. Many years from now, I hope that my son will feel this way too.

Did you father teach you how to polish your shoes too?
Did you father teach you how to polish your shoes too?

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