I Really Like Boots

I haven’t written in a while but I suppose to me it feels like not alot has changed. One thing I have not yet really mentioned is how I feel about boot making. Well, I love it. That in and of itself is very exciting to me! When I started working in January I had no idea if I would like boots. For all I knew, boot making could be worse to me than 3rd Period math class in junior high.

But I have found over these past few months that I have fallen in love with boot making. Not only that but I am good at it. Not too boast, mind you, but I was never really “good” at a lot. In high school I did not do much, if any, extra-curricular activities. I do remember trying wood shop class with my friends thinking I would love working with my hands. I saw myself becoming an expert craftsman (…not so much). I could barely craft a small stool. In fact, my favorite job became sanding, because I knew I was good at that! It was frustrating to no end! I wanted so bad to be able to make something with my hands, to call myself a craftsman! Yet I failed.

When I found I would be working in the factory, literally learning how to make boots, my brain ran back to the memory of that crappy stool in junior-high wood shop class. I thought to myself “There is no way I will be good at this…“. But, again not to boast, I have been good at it and I love that! I love the feeling of having created something with my own hands. It is an exciting thing to find something I truly am good at, and enjoy with a passion.

That passion I can only attribute to my family. I recently asked my mother if she thought my Grandfather would be proud of me for doing what he, his father, and his father’s father had done. She said it would make him very proud. My grandmother, whom we called Mimi, would have be proud as well, she said. It is at time frustrating to me having never met my grandfather. I really wish I could have had a relationship with him as I did with Mimi. And I miss Mimi very much. I do not know if I was ever a “momma’s-boy” but I do know I was a “grand-momma’s-boy”. To think I would be making them both proud bring me much joy.

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