Not Something I Merely Do, But Who I Am
By Ken Hopes
During my trip last month to Hawaii I spent about an hour inside a Starbucks in Waikiki. The entire time I was there, from standing in line, placing my order and waiting for my tall half-decaf to be prepared, to sitting at a table with my iPod Touch uploading photos to Facebook and checking news, I was barefoot. Though I’d never been barefoot in a coffee shop before, it didn’t take much boldness as this place was literally across the street from the beach.
I remember how the concrete floor felt. It was comfortable, but tactilely interesting. Unlike many concrete floors that are polished perfectly smooth and level, th is floor had texture, randomness, complexity. Wearing footwear as often as we do in our culture, we insulate ourselves from many pleasant tactile experiences, and foreclose memories of how places feel underfoot.
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