My Tree Revisited
Grandmother of the Goalie


The scene:  Logan Airport, Boston, MA; Gate B-18 prior to the departure of our 10:00 a.m. flight to visit the grandchildren

Stage center:  Me engrossed in the newspaper while waiting for our row to be called

Passing by:  Two attractive, well-dressed women “of a certain age” heading to the jetway, unnoticed by me until one of them yelled out, “Hey, we like your shoes.”  I couldn’t help but notice that their shoes were identical to mine. 

My standard airplane shoes are Merrells.  They don’t lace, buckle or Velcro shut. My feet slip in and out.  I toss them in the gray plastic tray to go through security.  Easy as pie.  They are a little clunky, but they work.

For me and at least two other ladies of a certain age on the 10:00 a.m. flight.


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