When I take his eight- and six-year-old granddaughters, my children, to one of Toronto’s many parks, they often ask if they can play barefoot. I always resist. I imagine broken glass or other sharp objects lurking underneath the sand or between blades of grass. On the rare occasion I do allow them to kick off their shoes, I warn them, “Watch where you are going.”
My father gets exasperated with this sort of tense vigilance. “Leave them alone,” he says. “They will be fine.” Even my older daughter, on hearing my abrupt “No!” the other day, shot back: “What is wrong with being barefoot anyway?”
This is a quote from a very refreshing article written about an Ethiopian native who emigrated to Canada.
The transition from bare feet to shoes for their father meant a lot to the 2'nd generation, but the parent wrote it off as no big deal. The bare feet/shoes thing is the central theme of the one hour old (as I post this) story.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/the-essay/my-fathers-journey-from-ethiopia-to-canada/article2226224/?from=sec434
My father gets exasperated with this sort of tense vigilance. “Leave them alone,” he says. “They will be fine.” Even my older daughter, on hearing my abrupt “No!” the other day, shot back: “What is wrong with being barefoot anyway?”
This is a quote from a very refreshing article written about an Ethiopian native who emigrated to Canada.
The transition from bare feet to shoes for their father meant a lot to the 2'nd generation, but the parent wrote it off as no big deal. The bare feet/shoes thing is the central theme of the one hour old (as I post this) story.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/the-essay/my-fathers-journey-from-ethiopia-to-canada/article2226224/?from=sec434
