Sacrifice of the Sole

I was contemplating the concept of sacrifice the other day as I trudged up West Buffalo Hill Road last Sunday toting two pizzas, a camcorder, and a digital camera housing over two hundred 6^th grade Boston Whale Watch pictures.  The only thing that I’d neglected to pack was my pride. 

            It’s interesting how the desire to meet the needs of others can inspire great effort.  Had this errand been simply for me, I most certainly would have scraped the idea of summiting such an incline wearing three inch heels in 80 degree heat.  However, I had an appointment, a deadline, a truck that had suddenly gone ka-put, and two pizzas cooling rapidly so I had to act fast.  The four quarter pay phone calls I made in lieu of my forgotten cell phone were quickly consumed by answering machines.  It looked as though I would need to take the high road.

            I’m sure by now that you’ve figured out that I never actually intended to walk the ENTIRE way.  Outwardly, I was all about sacrifice.  Inwardly, I was scheming.  Sporting a brave smile, an angelic glow, and slightly quivering ankles, I began the ascent, certain that someone:  a beloved friend, a vague acquaintance, or an ax murderer would quickly spot me and offer me a ride.  Instead, I received broad grins, beeping horns, and enthusiastic waves as I tight roped along the mostly shoulderless edge, gritting my teeth, bathed in sweat, and practically snapping my ankles off every other step or so.

It was, as I mentioned, a time of great reflection.  I realized that I had obviously neglected to cultivate enough deep and meaningful relationships with others as the thousandth car zipped by.  I thought about my talented video editor, housed at the top of Buffalo Hill Road liked a warped Rapunzel, sacrificing his Father’s Day for the 3^rd year in a row to produce an amazing movie of our school trip for the enjoyment of my 6^th graders.  Isn't he concerned regarding my unexplained absence?  Shouldn't he have contacted the local authorities, the FBI, or hired search dogs by now?  If not for me, at least for his late lunch?  His long-suffering patience was part of my undoing. 

            Going into this project, I had no idea regarding the level of commitment it would take to produce a worthwhile, enjoyable film.  Who knew of the blood, sweat, and tears that were to be extended to bring this movie to an appreciative audience?  For when the ending credits rolled, it would be the behind-the-scenes heroes who needed to be commended.  Todd and Sarah Sutay for magically transforming hours of potentially boring video into Oscar-worthy cinematography (and listening to me gripe about my tender throbbing ankles during the six hours it took to do it).  Than Mehlenbacher and Steve Ott taught me how to pop a clutch and refrained from criticizing me about my unfortunate choice of footwear. 

            After the climb, I vowed never to strap on those shoes again.  Those cute brown wedge sandals with the endearing peek-a-boo toe feature became demonic instruments of torture, leaving behind bloody heels, blistered baby toes, and weak ankles.  It is said that you should never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in her shoes.  Well?  Having gone the distance with me, what are your thoughts?  Was it worth the sacrifice?  The smiles on the faces of my 6^th graders lead me to say yes. As for the shoes, who could stay mad at them?  They’re such a pair of uplifting soles.

as published in Warsaw's Country Courier 
http://www.mywnynews.com/arcade_warsaw/