

Growing up, my father had my brother shine his shoes to earn money. Don't think for a second that this was an easy chore. My father had the highest standards for shine. Basically, he had to be able to see his reflection in those shoes, and if David didn't do it right, he was sent back down to the garage to chamois those puppies to a high gloss.
Over the last couple of months, I've read a handful of articles on the fine art, and plight of shoe shiners in The City. My guy, Larry, beat alcoholism and then City Hall and has a well established business across from my office. One shiner is known to be able to tell what you do by looking at your shoes - a shoe seer of sorts, and another, Famous Wayne, claimed in James Cameron style, to be "king of the world".
With all of this to-do for shoes I decided to give it a try, as I can't recall ever sitting in the "shoe thrown" and have a man at my feet. I almost always see men in suits, but maybe women feel funny in the open being served in this manner.

As people walked by they smiled, and I enjoyed sitting outside talking to Larry as he meticulously polished and buffed my shoes to a high shine. He even went so far as to take a paint brush and go around the edge of the soles of the shoes and heel to get them tarted up as well. Cost: $7 (+tip) and worth every penny.
If this had been my brother's work, I'm sure my father would have been proud--but he wouldn't have paid him the 7 bucks. I think it would have been something like fifty-cents!

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