Friday, September 19, 2008

Friday night errands

I had to get two pairs of shoes fixed and one pair cleaned so I bagged them up and took a walk through the neighborhood. En route, I stopped at the "papeleria", or the mom and pop stationary store, to buy some folders and asked where I could find a shoe repair shop. The woman pointed and told me to walk up the street two blocks.

There I was at a shoe repair shop within five minutes from my door step. The man in charge was a good two-hundred and fifty pounds, dark skinned and wearing an unbuttoned, sleeveless, plaid shirt. He looked at the first pair that needed new soles and gave me a look of concern, but reassured me that they were fixable. Next, I showed him the shoes that I wanted cleaned and asked if he could do it while I ran back to the house to get some more cash. "No problem," he said.

I came back within 15 minutes and a young boy, around 12 years old, was spraying my boots with black stuff. His hands were the color of my boots: charcoal black. It did not seem to phase him as he proceeded to wipe his nose with his working hands. I asked him from whom he was learning the trade, "My uncle," he replied with a smile. It was refreshing to see a family business as that tradition has disappeared over the years in the States. I paid the uncle's little helper and was on my way.

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