The Day of a Dozen Pairs of Boots

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On Saturday, I just couldn’t get the boots right. When I first got up, I pulled on my Champion Attitude ostrich/biker boots, but then decided, “nahhh, I’ve been wearing them a lot” so I pulled them off and said, “I haven’t worn Wescos in a while!” So I pull on my tall black Wesco harness boots.

No sooner had I walked into the kitchen to make breakfast than my legs felt hot. Ooops, these boots just aren’t good in hot weather. Even in air conditioned comfort, my legs were getting uncomfortable. So off with those boots! But I thought, well, perhaps it is that pair of boots, so let me try my tall brown Wesco Harness boots. They fit a little less tightly on the legs.

However, during breakfast, my legs began to feel just as uncomfortable as they did when I was wearing their black brothers. I quickly pulled them off and put on the closest boots available — an old pair of Justin Palamino cowboy boots.

I pulled those off right after breakfast. My feet hurt. Today just wasn’t going to be my day!

I then put on my tall black and blue Olathe buckaroo boots. They looked good, and felt okay. My partner and I picked up some senior pals and went to the grocery store. I also checked in on my beloved aunt who I look after. But I have to be honest, by the time I got home three hours later, my feet were sore again! Off with the boots!

I was planning on padding around barefooted, but my partner asked me to grill some burgers for lunch. Since the grill is outside, I had to put boots on again. So I grabbed a pair of Frye campus boots. Ooops, wrong choice. They felt fine in the foot, but the right boot was very tight on my once-broken leg, so I had to take it off and try again… this time, with a pair of Nocona Rattlesnake boots.

Wow! They felt great! I thought I had the boot-feeling-foot-sore problem solved. Then I decided to run to the wireless phone store and get rid of the Blackberry and downgrade to a regular old cell phone, which I am only keeping because it’s a requirement when leading rides for my club, or otherwise I wouldn’t have one. I decided to go to that store using my Harley… so guess what? The smooth leather-soled cowboy boots had to come off.

On came an old pair of tall Chippewa engineer boots. Off I rode, exchanged the phone, and returned home a half-hour later.

Keeping score? eight pairs… so far, and by then, it was only 1:00.

The Chips felt just fine so I thought that I would wear them the rest of the day. Then “oops” … I was using the hose to water the garden, and believe it or not, the nozzle came off and the hose fell onto my leg, filling my left boot with water. Honestly, I didn’t do that on purpose!

I pulled off the boot, drained it, and hung it upside down to dry while I went inside to find another pair of boots. I put on their brothers, my non-steel toe engineer boots. They felt just as comfortable as their steel-toed brothers.

I ran some more errands, looking after some of my elder buds, when one of them asked me to meet him on the Bocce course. Time for another change! Engineer boots wouldn’t cut it for Bocce. I needed something more “tactical.” So I quickly changed to my Chippewa Firefighter boots, met my buddies, and had a great game while chattering away in Italian.

When I got home, my partner muttered, “you’re dropping dirt clods on the carpet again!” Oops… I picked up dirt from the bocce course. Mud and grass were embedded in the thick lug soles. Off with the boots, to the laundry sink for some cleaning! On with a pair of Dan Post black cherry cowboy boots that I wore while preparing dinner.

All was well until my partner suggested that we watch a movie called “The Butch Factor” on TV after dinner. He suggested that we “get ready” and handed me a pair of boots that he wanted me to wear. So my All-American Patrol Boots were pulled up over a pair of chaps. Those boots look great with leather, and have wide enough of a calf circumference to accommodate leather tucked into them.

Life is short: wear boots — many of them!

Dude, that’s basically awesome

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“Dude, that’s basically awesome,” so said the kid who once occupied the workspace outside my office when he saw a photo of me on my Harley. (Anyone less than half my age, even if he is a college graduate, is a “kid” in my opinion if he continues to speak as if he is still in junior high school.)

When he’s not abusing “basically,” every other word is “awesome.” They say that the younger generation always comes up with meaningless expressions that drive the older generation nuts. This is one such experience.

The word “basically” has replaced “umm” and “ahh” as a space-filler when speaking. Most people are, like, basically, afraid of, basically, dead air when they speak, so they like, basically, fill the void with “basically” just to have some noise. Isn’t that awesome?

I know that I say expressions such as “that’s great” or “that’s neat” instead of “awesome, dude.” Used sparingly, “awesome” isn’t basically so bad. But “basically” is. Hardly anyone uses “basically” to mean “fundamentally.” It’s just awesome, however, when they do.

Life is short: basically be comfortable with a pause of silence if you need to think while speaking. That would be basically awesome, dude!

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Pride

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There I go again… the gay police are gonna come get me for sure… I forgot that it was “Pride” time again in DC. I had to check the website when a good friend who lives in Pennsylvania sent me an email and mentioned that he might be dropping by the Pride Festival on Sunday, June 13.

I dunno why I didn’t remember it was Pride time in DC. I am a plain old disassociated gay guy, I guess. Perhaps it is a result of living with a recluse. Or perhaps it is because I don’t like to stand around among crowds. Capital Pride has events scheduled from June 4 to June 13.

On the last day of this series of events, tens of thousands of people gather in downtown Washington, DC, at the Capital Pride Festival. They listen to speeches and watch stage performances, mill about various booths and displays, and check out the other people there. Usually, it is hot, sunny and unpleasant (weather-wise). My days of wanting to watch lithe young things with shaved chests wearing boots have passed. Frankly, I would rather be out riding my Harley.

Actually, my forgetting about Capital Pride has more to do with the fact that I am an out, open, regular guy. I don’t need a day, week, or set of activities in which to “be proud.” I am a proud man as I am — proud of my accomplishments and my service to my community. And I’m not talking about the LGBT community. I am talking about my neighbors — the area where I live. The area where I provide service by engaging as a civic leader. The area where I am respected for who I am and what I know, not because I am gay, but regardless of my sexual orientation (or the boots or leather that I wear). And that’s how it should be.

Martin Luther King, Jr., said in his famous “I Have A Dream” speech that he desired that his children would “not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” This dream is a reality for me as a gay guy. I don’t hide in the closet. I don’t run around waving the rainbow flag, either. I am who I am, regardless.

… and that’s how it should be.

Life is short: be proud of who you are, as you are, where you are, 24/7, 365 days a year.

Cowboy Boots at the Office

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I am still asked from time to time by curious and perhaps self-conscious men questions like, “do you wear cowboy boots to the office?” or “how do you get by wearing cowboy boots at the office?” or “you’re a manager of other people. Don’t you think wearing cowboy boots to work sets a bad example?”

This blog post came to light when I found a discussion on the professional social network “LinkedIn” titled, “Do you wear cowboy boots to the office”. The responses on that discussion were about as I expected: a few respondents said, “yes, I do,” but most said that they did not, or do not recommend doing so, with a few having very strong opinions about it.
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How To Put On Cowboy Boots

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One might think, “why does anyone want to know how to put on cowboy boots. I mean, you just sit down and pull them on, right?”

Yep, that’s right. However…

… not everyone can pull on cowboy boots all that easily. Recently, I received an email from a guy who is not accustomed to wearing boots. He bought a pair of boots via a reputable on-line merchant. He even got instructions on how to measure himself for boots before he placed the order. Trouble is, the vast majority of internet boot retailers only give instructions on how to measure the foot, not the calf.

The guy who wrote to me said that he received the boots, took them out of the box, pointed his toe into the boot and pulled … and pulled … and pulled, and the boot wouldn’t come on. He further described that the boot shaft (calf circumference) was too narrow.

He wrote to me for advice on what to do. Short story: I suggested that he return the boots and go with another brand, or better yet: custom boots made to his specific measurements.

The guy contacted some others for advice, and someone told him to use plastic grocery bags on each foot. Put his foot in a bag, then into the boots, then pull on. Well, that works for a few people, but only to get the boot on the leg. But the bag doesn’t just pull out once you get the boot on. So what do you have? Roasted ankle and foot! The plastic will not allow natural body heat to dissipate, nor sweat evaporate. Soon enough, your foot begins to heat up, sweat, and then … da da da dum … swell. Uh-oh! You could barely get the boot on, and now you’re foot is hot, sweaty, and swollen, so you won’t be able to pry the boot off with a crowbar! This is NOT a good idea! Don’t believe that old folklore. It doesn’t work!

If the shaft is slightly narrow — that is, you can get the boot on but it is a tight squeeze — then it may be possible for a cobbler to stretch the boot shafts for you to accommodate your leg. But most boots can only be stretched at most 3/8 of an inch. Sometimes that can help, but most often, it’s not enough.

Some cheap boots have narrower shafts that higher-quality boots. Check the manufacturer. I have found that Dan Post, some Tony Lama, some Justin, Nocona, Lucchese, and a few others have a slightly wider instep and calf, which are more forgiving to guys with muscular (or large) calves. Word of warning: if the boots cost less than US$140, expect narrow shafts and other manufacturing short-cuts which is why they are cheap, but also may result in the boots not fitting properly.

The best bet, overall, is not to give up on wearing cowboy boots, but rather, have them made custom to fit you.

Alternatively, try regular harness boots. While it may seem that the harness strap would make the instep tight, it does not. Harness boots generally have a wider instep and calf circumference, so that style of boot may fit you, while traditional 13″ cowboy boots would not.

It is best if you can go to a western store, or even a well-stocked motorcycle store, and try on a pair or two of different styles of boots. That’s really the only way to know if the boots will fit.

Life is short: wear boots!

"Bizzarro Rider" — WTF?

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This guy was on a police-escorted ride to Rolling Thunder held May 30, 2010, in Washington, DC. I’ve seen some riders dressed in some bizarre outfits in my day, but this one takes the cake.

Words can’t explain…. Just what are those things on his feet? Mid-length leather jacket … shorts … foot-thingies that give no ankle protection??? Open-faced helmet with sunglasses and no windscreen??? Bug or rock ===> OUCH! And this is all whilst going 60mph on the Washington Beltway!

Life is short: get in gear and get booted!

Photo from someone who was on the ride, lifted from his Facebook posting. I intentionally blurred the profile, as I didn’t know this person and didn’t take the photo. Note: this IS a male rider. Note the hairy legs. Unblurred facial image confirmed as well.

Observations From The Road

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My partner and I spent yet another lovely holiday weekend at his mother’s home, near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA. We got there by car. It’s about a five-hour trip. My Harley whimpered ‘bye as we pulled out of our garage. He much would rather I be riding him on what turned out to be a lovely, warm, sunny three-day weekend. Alas, it wasn’t the case, once again, as we had to do what we had to do.

Along the way, I saw lots and lots of bikers on the road. As we were driving north, they were driving east and south to join tens of thousands of their brethren who were traveling to Washington, DC, to participate in Rolling Thunder. On our way home, we saw the opposite — bikers returning to their home, going north and west while we were going east and south.

We stopped to have lunch along the way, and to switch drivers. At lunch stops, dozens of bikers were stopped, too. I observed:

  • Most real motorcyclists kept their helmets on, even in Pennsylvania, where a helmet is not required by law (as it is in a smarter state, Maryland, where we live.) However, there were some ding-dongs observed removing their helmet at the state line.
  • Most motorcyclists were wearing proper clothing — jeans, long-sleeved shirts, and boots. There were a few wearing sneakers, but fortunately, not many of those I call “anticipating broken ankle recoverers.”
  • There were some organ donors, too — those who were wearing shorts and sneakers and no helmet, either. I really wonder what these guys were thinking. (Sorry, oxymoron: helmetless sneaker-clad shorts-wearers on a motorcycle going 70mph aren’t able to think, as they believe there is no possibility at all that they would have a crash.)
  • it was amusing to me, but as every biker I saw parked and got off his respective motorcycle, he pulled out his cell phone (or Blackberry, or iPhone, etc.) and began texting away. Every single one of them — text-text-text. I guess it’s a new trend among bikers now. I haven’t really seen all the texting practice before. Since I don’t text and have blocked texting service from my cell phone, I don’t know why they are doing that, but they do.
  • motorcyclists were generally traveling in groups of four to eight and were going within the speed limit. That’s a good thing, from a safety standpoint.

Well, anyway, as we were traveling along the highway and I would see a group of bikers, I couldn’t help but let out a little sigh. My partner said that next year, he might rearrange things so I can stay home for the holiday weekend. We’ll see if that really happens. So many things can change in a year’s time.

Life is short: ride safely!

Touring Ruled Out

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I have long wanted to go on a motorcycle tour of New England through the Canadian Maritimes, then west, ending in Toronto. This isn’t a type of trip that one would take alone. You need at least one other person to be with you, in case something happens and to enjoy the experience together.

I tried appealing to my club through its newsletter for someone to go with me on such a ride, but nobody wanted to go on a slow trip as I described. That is, I suggested riding no more than 250 – 300 miles each day. Most people in my club ride much more than that in a day when they go on long trips. I prefer to “stop and smell the roses” as they say, and take my time. Plus, riding long distances gets tiring. These guys like to ride all day and drink all night… which doesn’t work for me.

I went on-line and found five motorcycle tour operators who offer to take you on rides in that area varying from 5 to 14 days in length. However, the fee for the tours that I found began at US$2,300 for the five-day tour, and went up (and up and up) from there. Meals, gas for the Harley, and incidental expenses would be extra. Nah-ah; I don’t want to spend that kind of money.

I regret that my partner is unable to ride with me as my passenger, or we would take such a tour by ourselves. But he can’t due to his disability. It doesn’t make sense for him to drive a car and me to ride my bike. It’s no fun that way, plus the trip would become just as exhausting to my partner as it would be to me.

I guess my dream will not be fulfilled this summer… but I will continue to look for a motorcycling companion with whom to ride on such a journey.

Life is short: dream.

No Wall Riding

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Today, Sunday May 30, is a big day in Washington, DC. Bikers from everywhere descend on the city for an event that they call the “ride to the wall” or “Rolling Thunder.” It is held annually on the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend. For those blog readers not from the U.S.: that’s today!

The purpose of Rolling Thunder is to pay tribute to those who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces, especially those who were captured and endured being held as Prisoners of War, or who were missing in action (MIA).

Biker dudes (and dudettes) gather in the parking lot of the Pentagon, and wait… and wait… and wait… then at noon, the ride begins. Leaders of the group that organizes the event go first, followed by everyone else. The departure can (and does) take several hours. Bikers ride from the Pentagon across a bridge into the city, around the National Mall, past the U.S. Capitol building, then end up near the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial, which is at Henry Bacon Drive and Constitution Avenue, near the Lincoln Memorial.

Imagine… tens of thousands of bikers on their bikes — all trying to get from one place to another and try to find a place to park. It’s crazy! I appreciate what they are doing, and honor their commitment. I’ve gone on that ride a few times. It’s fun — when you’re riding. It’s the waiting for the ride to take off that is a killer. It can involve hours and hours of standing in the full sun. Finding a place to park at the other end is very difficult too, and by the time you get there, if you get there, a lot of the ceremonial events are over. It kinda defeats the purpose of riding in the event in the first place.

Well, anyway, we’re not going on the Rolling Thunder ride this year. Not because of some likely inconveniences, but rather, for the required Spring visit to the mother-in-law. Her place in da ‘burgh needs to be redded up. (If you don’t understand those terms, don’t worry. I didn’t either. That is, not until I got into a relationship with a Pittsburgher.) So once again, I’ll be lost in neuroticisms of the M-I-L and not riding on Memorial Day weekend. Such is partnered life. You win some, you lose some.

Remember those who have died, been lost, and some who were never found — all these brave warriors gave service and commitment that is honorable, and for that reason, we should thank them and remember. Even if we may not have supported the war in which they served, the point is, they served … and some didn’t come back.

Life is short: Remember.

Wesco Boots Confirm Recovery

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Flash: this just in!

BHD is wearing Wesco boots again!

Woo-weeeeee!

Why so excited? It’s like this: Wesco pull-on boots — even if made custom — tend to fit a little tightly on the ankle at the instep. Normal ankles fit into the boots just fine. However, a recently broken ankle (lower fib, I keep having to remind myself), still has swelling that can continue for up to a year (according to orthopedic specialists.)

I had been having that swelling, so I resigned myself to accepting that I can wear only certain boots — those without a tight instep — until the swelling continues to go down more.

Back to the Wescos. Do you remember my story of a Wesco Disappointment? I received a cool new pair of tall Wesco harness boots made from two colors of roughout leather on April 1. Since my left leg and ankle was not injured, I tried pulling the left boot onto my foot. Ouch! It wouldn’t fit. The boot was made wrong.

I knew at the time that there would not be any way that I could wear a Wesco pull-on boot on my right leg, but since the left wouldn’t fit, it didn’t matter. I shipped the boots back to Wesco and with the help from my friend Mike, we convinced Wesco that they goofed up and the boots had to be remade.

I received the new boots on May 24. I knew at first glance that the boot shafts were wider, which was the main reason that the pair that I received on April 1 did not fit. I pulled off the boots that I had on my feet and pulled on the left boot first, then gingerly tried pulling on the right boot. It came right on! No pain! No problem! WOO-HOO! I am Wesco booted again!

This is a damn good sign that my recovery continues to progress well. I will know that I am absolutely 1000% recovered when I can wear my Dehner patrol boots. Those boots have the tightest instep of all. Once I get them on, I’m golden. (healed, fixed, recovered, whatever….)

N.B.: These burgundy/brown roughout Wesco boots aren’t for everyone. I’ve had a “boot intervention” threatened by three close friends, including my eighth brother. No worries, I’m older, wiser, and more adventuresome while they’re boring in their booted blandness.

Life is short: celebrate victories measured through your boots! (giggle)