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DeAnn (Wolkow) Kruempel, Columnist
The Ties that Bind
Before starting school, we were supposed to know how to tie. Likely, first grade teachers had better things to do than tie students’ shoes. My attempts at tying began long before I stepped into the classroom. As the youngest of six, I felt the need to mimic my siblings.
My sister looped and tied the bright white laces on her saddle shoes into perfect bows. “Dorothy, will you please teach me to tie like that?”
“Sure. Come sit by me.” She had me take off one of my tennis shoes and hold it on my lap. She demonstrated how to make a loop like a bunny ear, wind the other string around it, and slip it through the hole in the middle. “Now you try.”
I bunny-eared and looped and slipped through—and ended up with a loose stack of strings! “That’s OK. Try it again.”
Just when I thought I had it, I would hear the soft click of shoestrings tapping the floor as I walked. Delmer was pretty good at tying his boots. “Delmer, will you teach me to tie? You are really good at it.” (It was good to butter up my brother before asking for help.)
“OK. Watch carefully. I don’t have all day.” He looped the leather laces and wound and pulled and ended up with a decent bow at the top. (Though one loop was a bit longer than the other.) “Just do what I did.” I knew the basics, so I tried again with the laces on my red tennies. Before I was past the kitchen door, the laces were loose. My brother was out the gate, but he called back, “You have to keep trying. You can do it!”
Mom was just bringing in the eggs from the hen house. She took in my forlorn puppy eyes and flopping shoe strings. She smiled and set down the egg bucket. Sitting next to me on the porch step, she talked me through the process several times. Then she had me do it. I held my breath and did my best. “Good. It takes lots of practice.” Mom stayed for a long time. About when I thought I had the tying technique mastered I discovered a tight knot in one string. I growled in frustration and pounded on my knees.
“We all get knots sometimes.” Mom’s long fingers undid the knot and I worked again.
Months before I clambered on that yellow bus for the first time, I could tie, double-tie and untie my shoes. (Mrs. Pattee, my first-grade teacher, was glad.)
Not long after that, in the 1960s, Velcro shoes stepped into the picture. A Swiss engineer named George de Mestral had invented Velcro in 1941 after being inspired by burrs sticking in his dog’s fur. The two-strip fasteners were eventually sewn on shoes. Voila! Affix a strap or two; no tying needed. Did five-year-olds rejoice? Moms? Sisters? Brothers?
Turns out that Velcro shoes did not knock anybody’s socks off. They didn’t tie up all the loose ends. They are not nearly as popular as good old lace-up shoes.
If we ask Google why, she says those quick putter-onners are shunned because of social stigmas that connect them to toddlers and old people.
Well, Google doesn’t know everything! The REAL reason Velcro shoes were never in the running is because parents, sisters and brothers secretly enjoy the special bonds that are formed as they teach about bunny ears and loops and knots. Different ties are forming—family ties, the ties that bind.
The author’s column appears in a growing number of Midwest newspapers. Kruempel has compiled and published her column stories every year for the last five years. She has also published a historical fiction series, “Promises to Keep.” Her ten books are available on Amazon.
Signed copies may be purchased at the Harrison County Welcome Center. Contact Kruempel at deannkruempelauthor@gmail.com.
