By Larry George

Even though my parents had nine children, they tried to spend time with each of us. One cold wintery night when I was about 10 years old, I was doing my paper route in my cowboy boots. These boots were too big for me and there was a hole in the one sole, but my grandfather had given me the boots and I loved them.  In order to make them fit, I had to wear several pairs of socks and use plastic bread sacks in the boots to keep my feet dry.

That night, my Dad had a service call to make in a neighboring town and found me on my paper route to ask if I wanted to go with him.  I quickly said, “Yes.”  As we rode, my feet began to hurt because they were cold and wet.

When we got to our destination, dad could see I was hurting.  Inside the building, he sat me down and pulled off my boots.  He, of course, scolded me because my feet were wet.  He said, “Larry, you have to take care of your feet.  If you lose them, you can’t walk.”  Then he began to gently take off my socks and placed my socks on a heater.  He then began to rub the feeling back into my feet.  This not only helped my feet, but it made me realize how much dad loved me!


Sherri Maat

Sherri Maat