The good old days were a lot shinier

Shining my shoes used to be an everyday event. Or, at least, a weekly event. Virtually every Saturday evening of my childhood involved shining my shoes so they would be presentable enough for church the next day. I’m not sure why my parents felt shining my shoes was important, but perhaps there’s a passage in the Bible somewhere that warns, “No little boy shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven wearing scruffy shoes.”

When I became old enough to date, I never showed up at a girl’s front door without a little dab of Brylcreem in my hair and a sheen of Shinola on my shoes. Neither of which seemed to be enough to get girls to accept my invitation for a second date, so maybe there were other factors.

At some point, though, I got out of the habit of shining my shoes. I no longer cleaned them with saddle soap, smeared them with Shinola, brushed them, buffed them and spit on them.

Instead of all that work, I started using cans of aerosol shining spray. Plastic bottles of liquid with foam rubber applicator tips. Those little strips of material some hotels provide in their bathrooms along with little bottles of shampoo, mouthwash and lotion. Eventually I got to the point where, if my shoes got a little scruffy, I figured it was enough just to rub the tops of them on the backs of my pant legs every once in a while.

I haven’t been able to find any statistics to back me up, but I’m guessing that I’m not the only man who has kicked the shoe shining habit. We live in a more casual time. Or a lazier one. Sandals and flip-flops don’t need polishing. Besides, shiny shoes don’t accessorize well with baggy jeans and flapping shirt tails.

And men who do still polish their shoes probably use Kiwi, because Shinola is no more. When I accessed “Shinola” on Wikipedia, all it said was that it was “a brand of shoe polish that was available in the early to mid-20th Century.” Although a second reference did mention something about a pithy phrase that included the word “Shinola.”

Still, I felt a certain nostalgic satisfaction in all that brushing, buffing and spitting. And now the shoes are presentable enough to be worn to work.

But not necessarily enough to get me into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Contact this columnist at dlstew_2000@yahoo.com.