By Philip Lear
Jim had worn sneakers of one kind or another for most of his life. He liked them because they were light and easy to move in. It was as though his feet were born to be in them.
In the summers in Jamaica when he was eight, he could remember wearing little white sneakers with red borders that were almost as wide as they were long. His father, a salesman at Buster Brown, brought them home. When he played hide and seek with his cousins, the sneakers would help Jim to move quickly and silently. Even though he was the youngest he was rarely caught.
As a teenager at Jamaica High he wore sneakers for basketball. They were black high-tops with gold wings on either side. Jim was the quickest player on the team. The coach said he had the fastest second step in the league. And sometimes Jim wasn’t quite sure if it was him or the wings that were flying up the court. In the games loved to hear the cheers as he brought the ball up the court.
When he dropped out of school Jim’s sneakers helped him to stay out of harm' s way. He would escape from dealers, cops, and others who wanted a piece of him. One day when he held up a convenience store on Hillside Avenue, there was a cop in there. Jim ran out with the cop chasing him. But after a few blocks the cop gave up. With those New Balance Streaks he didn’t stand a chance.
When Jim got a little bit older and became a burglar he wore North Face Climbers. He did most of his work on the gold coast on Long Island. He could climb up the sides of houses using bricks, vines, drainpipes, trees, or anything that would give him the slightest footing. He was like a lizard.
Now Jim’s wearing Nike Airs as he walks behind the priest who’s saying some kind of prayer. They are very light and well cushioned. The warden’s to Jim’s right and there’s a guard on his left.
He broke into this a mansion in the Hamptons and to his surprise the butler was laid out in the master bedroom watching the Knicks game. The family was away and the butler wasn’t supposed to be there either. Some nerve for a servant to be stretched out like that in the master bedroom.
When the butler saw Jim he got real riled. Jim motioned for him to calm down. After all they weren’t his jewels. But the butler wasn’t listening. He charged like a bull, but like a good second story matador wearing the right footwear, Jim smoothly stepped aside and the guy went flying out the window. The prosecutor claimed Jim had pushed him and that wasn’t true. Jim would never do a thing like that. But he didn’t try to stop him either. They were both in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Now his Nike Airs won’t do him much good. There are limits to the power of even the best of sneakers. But they’re appropriate for his last mile. And you never know. Maybe he’ll catch a break and the Governor will call and tell them to stop. And even if he doesn’t, who knows what will happen when they flip the switch?