New Shoes

Some weeks ago my son Patrick and I ventured over to the Van's store in nearby Cottonwood Mall. The mall is the major shopping outlet on this side of the river. Post-pandemic, it's definitely seen better days. At least 20% of the retail space is vacant now and the foot traffic is probably a fraction of what it once was.

But that didn't stop us from finding the Van's store, which is on the second level just next to the food court. Once inside, we were greeted and/or gently assaulted by several store employees. All were twenty-somethings who sported just the right mix of feral and unkempt. But they were also very friendly. Had we met on the street I'm reasonably sure the perky quotient would have been considerably less. Otherwise, I quickly noticed that the store was barely lit and the music was too loud. I guess temporary blindness and deafness are the prerequisites of shopping for today's youth.

Patrick has worn Van's for years. And not just because the shoes are the sentimental favorites of skateboarders the world over. It's more practical than that. Van's are comfortable, well-made canvas sneakers. More importantly, some models are slip-ons—important because Patrick has never learned to tie shoes. That may sound odd, but we’ve tried several times over the years to teach him. However, the combination of his cognitive disabilities and finger strength-coordination have never been up to the task. No doubt we’ll be revisiting it in the near future. Until then, he needed a new pair of Van's to replace an ancient blue pair that was about to fall apart.

To begin, I had one of the sales people measure Patrick's feet. For the record, his right foot is almost a half-size larger than his left. Apparently, the same is true for many people. It reminds me that people's ears also tend to be different sizes. In fact, Nan, the woman who cuts my hair, once told me that she has to be careful when cutting men's sideburns and hair length to their ear level because it can be different from one side to the other. It sounds very Picasso and cubist, if you think about it.

For the record, my ears—at least the lobes—are mismatched. My left ear lobe has a crease in it. For years as an adult I always thought it was the mark of Satan, or at least a remnant of being overly-processed at the hospital when I was born. As it turns out, the clef on my left ear is hereditary. One time years ago I was chatting with my late Mom during a visit home. Suddenly, I looked over to see that she had the same crease on her left ear lobe. I was so excited I stopped her mid-sentence to tell her. To which she replied, "you didn't know that all these years?" I was relieved to know she and I shared ear styling. And also that I wasn't related to Satan in any way. At least not physically.  

Back to Van's. There were two pairs that caught Patrick's fancy that day. An all-black pair, for his moody goth days, and a light blue pair with white soles. He tried on both but couldn't make up his mind. "Dude, we can get both pairs," I suggested. He thought that was a splendid idea. However, there was a problem in getting the right fit. Although endlessly chatty when conversing about any number of characters from Disney animated movies, there are times when the P-man lacks the skills to communicate something important in the moment. Like if a new pair of shoes fits—or not. The long and short of it was getting home only to discover one of the pairs was too large. We quickly found that out because Patrick walked around the house in them like someone just starting clown school. Which meant a quick return trip to the store the next dayto get the right size. A goateed young man behind the counter helped us do just that in short order. But the place was still dark and the music too loud.

In the days following, Patrick wore his new pairs of Van's whenever we ventured out to shop or to run errands. One of the things I quickly picked up on was how he took to wearing the new shoes in the great outdoors. I can only describe it as hyper-caution with the intent to somehow avoid getting them dirty. Walking to and from the car and in stores, he assumed a strange gate resembling a cross between a stork and the aforementioned clown. Several times I stopped him and said, "buddy, you're walking like you're wearing clown shoes. Walk like you usually do." "I am not a clown," he responded. The simile/allegory/comparison thing has never been easy for him.

Once back in the car I'd remind him that there was no way to prevent his new shoes from getting dirty. Even if he just wore them in the house they'd eventually get dirty and worn. That's what shoes are for—to wear. And all shoes eventually get dirty and wear out. Which is why we sometimes have to buy new shoes. I think they said something about that in the Lion King. I actually didn't say the last part because Patrick would have busted me. He knows every line of the movie.

But Patrick understood my line of thinking and then immediately launched into repeating the entire spiel verbatim back to me. That's how he processes and learns. Reasoning aside, he still continues to walk clown-like in his new shoes. I've stopped giving him any flack for it and just give him a look when I catch him doing it. Pick your battles.

Otherwise, Patrick's new shoes dilemma reminds me of a certain Juan Garcia Esquivel, widely known in the day simply as Esquivel. Juan Esquivel was a Mexican pianist, band leader, and composer for films and TV. His career spanned from the 50's to the 90's. Today he's recognized as one of the foremost proponents of instrumental music that combines Latin, jazz, and lounge elements. To that point, he's been called the king of "Space Age Bachelor Pad Music" and "The Busby Berkeley of Cocktail Music.

Esquivel was born in Tampico, Tamaulipas in 1918. His family moved to Mexico City when he was 10. From an early age, he was a self-taught musician, learning to play the piano and write and arrange. By age 14 he was appearing as a soloist on XDW, the city's most popular radio station. Three years later he had formed a 15-piece ensemble that performed his arrangements and compositions. Soon Esquivel was leading a 22-piece group complete with five singers. In 1958 RCA brought Esquivel to Los Angeles, where he quickly gained a reputation as one of the top composers and arrangers for TV and movies.

Esquivel's music can only be described as idiosyncratic. It's immediately recognizable with layered percussion, piano glissandos, and exaggerated shifts in dynamics. There's also wordless vocals including the likes of "zu-zu" and "pow." Instrumentation also runs to the exotic with Chinese bells, mariachi bands, and whistling mixed with orchestra, chorus, and his own unique piano stylings. Also notable is Esquivel's use of early stereo recording techniques. He often employed two complete bands recording simultaneously in separate studios. The song, "Mucha Muchacha" is one of the songs recorded in two venues, and makes use of stereo separation with voices and brass quickly alternating between the left and right channels.

Musical genius aside, Esquivel also cut a dashing figure. He was often seen dating one of the leading ladies of the silver screen. He married six times, including his care taker during his last year. No surprise that Juan dressed to the nines, including impeccably tailored suits and bespoke ties and shoes. And it is with his shoes that I'm finally landing the plane.

Among his many quirks, Esquivel loathed getting creases in the tops of his always pristinely polished patent leather shoes. He was known to walk slowly and somewhat awkwardly, in an effort to keep the tops of his shoes immaculate. In watching Patrick stork-walking in his new Van's I was reminded of the great Esquivel. Not only his brilliant music, but his obsession with perfect shoes and the resulting bizarre gait. It made me think that with genius we find constant variation and sometimes surprising commonality.

Patrick knows Esquivel's music and is very fond of it. "Mucha Muchacha" is one of his favorites. The other day I told him about how Esquivel wanted to avoid getting creases in his shoes. He simply nodded like he understood. I'm sure he did. Otherwise, those in my immediate tribe know Esquivel's music well. If you don't, you must. I've included YouTube links to three favorite songs below. Enjoy. And mind those new shoes.

Sentimental Journey

Mucha Muchacha

Who's Sorry Now?