The End of No-Sock Season
Let me say this at the start: “I hate socks.” I truly do. From the spring until the fall I hardly ever wear socks. I even have a pair of sneakers that were designed to wear barefoot.
I think that it comes from spending all of the summers from age 2 until my twenties at Breezy Point. Not only didn’t we wear socks but for the most part we hardly ever wear shoes. Surrounded by a sea of sand it really wasn’t necessary to wear shoes.
Unless of course if you had the bad luck of my friend Vinnie Zeppie. Vinnie had the bad luck to step on either a nail or broken glass almost every summer. Then he had to wear a white sock over the bandages in order to keep out sand or dirt.
Vinnie didn’t like socks either. In fact, he used to throw his dirty socks behind his dresser. His mom wondered about the diminishing supply of socks until the odor from the dirty socks caught her attention one particularly hot day. Whew, the smell could knock out a horse.
As I’ve grown older it has been a badge of honor to wear socks less and less. It was very tough when we lived in Wisconsin. Spring comes late and winter arrives early so the No-Sock Season is very brief. In a good year it may stretch from Memorial Day until a week or two past labor day.
We’ve lived in Virginia since 2002 and the No-Sock Season in the Upper South is longer and more pleasant. I stopped wearing socks regularly on about Tax Day and only resumed wearing them about a week ago when we had a stretch of cold, rainy days.
But I’ll have you know that I’m not wearing socks today and according to the extended forecast I might not have to wear socks for at least another 8 or 10 days. There’s hope for me yet.