Toes - Spuds and Otherwise

Daphne Guinness in Alexander McQueen Armadillo Shoes

I am always amazed at what gets the attention of the American public.

You might recall that I “ranted” in an earlier blog about not knowing who LeBron James was and where he was headed. That question, at the time, was the subject of great debate among the news mongers of the US.

For the record, he wound up in Miami with “The Heat.” While Miami is warmer than a large part of the rest of the country, the “heat” is a professional sports team. (I do not remember the variety – but it is not croquet.)

Today’s debate is even of less consequence.

Should the President of the United States of America expose his toes?

We have seen Presidential chests and some Presidential scars, but no toes!

That is, until now.

To begin with our leader is not walking about Washington inflagrante. Also, to my knowledge, President Obama has not been photographed with a zoom, relaxing on the Truman Balcony with his bare feet resting on the railing, while watching the sun at play on the Washington Monument.

He has, however, been photographed on a recent vacation to his native state of Hawaii, wearing flip-flops while at the beach purchasing ice cream for his two girls. His knees were also showing since he was wearing shorts, but the concern is about the exposed toes not knobby knees.

I am more relieved that he was not wearing his Hickey Freeman with flip-flops.

To begin with, I am not a fan of flip-flops, not even the bejeweled kind that the Jackie O generation wore on Saint-Tropez. While my children, now 40 and 32, both attest to the comfort of this type shoe, I am now and have always been radically opposed to them.

I used to teach a very popular humanities course at a college in Florida. It was always held in a large teaching auditorium which had tiered seating. The downside was that I faced hundreds of “flip-flopped” feet at each lecture.

It was unpleasant! Had I taught Religion, I would have probably insisted upon the re-enactment of foot-washing at each lecture.

I considered putting something in the syllabus about “no exposed feet” but then worried that I would be the subject of much conjecture. I am far too Southern to handle that much free thought about my person.

So I faced the feet.

The foot is not an attractive extremity – well, maybe on a newborn, but certainly not past puberty. So, to give the foot the minimal cladding of a strap and a sole held in place by gnarly toes offers far more than should be viewed.

Yet, at each lecture, there were hundreds of them looking back at me as I extolled the virtues of modern architecture and Paul Klee. It all seemed so inappropriate – so inconsistent with good learning. That is not to say that learning can only happen in an environment of Mary Janes and wing-tips. A “Bass Weejun” here and there is not a threat. Sperry’s in leather or canvas are fine. But a room full of flip-flops – never! Ah, where are those saddle oxfords when you need them?

Scholars, and others, cover your ugly feet! I don’t expose mine, so I don’t wish you to expose yours.

Now, I also am not interested in the strange cartoon-like inventions called shoes that have been unveiled by couture designers and find their way onto the feet of the likes of that Guinness girl - the one that makes the five perfect white shirts for ladies who need perfect white shirts. Daphne, your McQueen Armadillos are over the top. But, so are most of her clothes.

But, back to Presidential flip-flops. (The apparel variety, not the reversal of previous statements of policy.)

It seems nobody has ever seen the Presidential toes.

Back in 1992, Vice-Presidential “toes” were exposed and found sadly wanting when Mr. Quayle corrected the spelling of a spud by a young William Figueroa and created a national sensation. Some say that branded Dan as “less than a rocket scientist.” By 1992, that shipped had sailed.

Well, King Julien of Madagascar fame would well understand this thing about the "lower ten." His edict is forthright. “Do not touch the Royal Feet!” While Mort is obsessed with his feet for reasons that are never revealed, King J must have surely understood that the foot represented vulnerability and Mort was to keep his distance.

Remember the Achilles’ heel? Heel, toes – it’s the same geography.

Are we now less safe since we have seen the President’s “little piggies?”

There will be some conjecture, I feel certain, that at the next encounter with a hardliner like Mahmoud Ahmadinejad there will be the fear that he will say, “Don’t take that tact with me, I have seen your toes!”

The only recourse at that point will be to flash him the sole of the foot.

I have no opinion on the Presidential toes only that it is “much ado about nothing.” Perhaps to avoid any future controversy, Mr. Obama should only appear at the beach in a pair of LeBron James “Ambassadors.”

Speaking of “much ado about nothing,” the GOP representatives are reading aloud the Constitution on the floor of the House.

Is there an amendment “afoot?”

Round Objects

Image courtesy of FRONTLINE, a PBS program

Today I am thinking about round objects: wheels, balls, spheres and how they are propelled! They come in all sizes and compositions. I am even including “air-heads” and inflated egos in this collection.

So here goes.

I am over the guilt that I felt when I really didn’t give a flip where LeBron James was going. To be more precise, I didn’t even know who LeBron James was and why he was going anywhere that would cause such speculation. Given all that was going on in the world, I was shocked that this was about an air-filled sphere and a bit of beach in South Florida.

My concerns for the beaches of Florida do not involve Mr. James or the Miami Heat. (Nor the Miami heat.) My concerns involve the ominous slick of oil hovering both above and below the surface of the beautiful Gulf of Mexico. BP has plugged the flow it seems, but the disaster continues. Tar balls behave differently from basketballs and despite what Cleveland thinks, with far greater consequences.

Cleveland is having a bad run. Not just in the sports arena, but also in the lofty Severance Hall – home of the Cleveland Orchestra. Their resident conductor, Franz Welser- Most, an arguably mixed bag of talent, was quoted at telling Swiss media that Cleveland was an “inflated farmer’s village.” This was reported locally by the Cleveland Plain Dealer music critic, Donald Rosenberg. Mr. Rosenberg has not been Mr. Welser-Most’s most ardent fan.

As a result of the leaked Swiss interview and other criticisms by Mr. Rosenberg, the editor of the Plain Dealer has reassigned the 16-year critic to covering other arts events but not the orchestra. He is even been warned to never use the word Cleveland and orchestra together.

Mr. Rosenberg is suing just about everybody – most especially the “big wheels” of the orchestra association and the newspaper. There is a lot of air being traded about as the trial is in progress. Welser-Most even tried to put a spin on the “inflated farmer’s village” remark as an intended compliment. Was he coached by Blago?

And the world keeps turning.

I have no guilt at all over the fact that I wish Mel Gibson would shut-up, head back to Australia, and tend livestock somewhere very remote in the outback. Talk about something filled with a lot of air! I do hate to impose that on the outback, however. So there is some guilt there.

Other transistions are taking place.

Rush Limbaugh is reportedly giving up New York City. This is entirely appropriate since most of NYC gave up on Rush years ago and it is bad manners to go where you are not wanted. I wish Rush would be more expansive in his moves to bow out. Maybe join Mel in the outback and banter about their prejudices. Enough hot air between them to kick up a dust storm in Alice Springs.

George Steinbrenner gave up New York City this past Tuesday. I felt I got to know Mr. Steinbrenner over the years. But in reality, I only knew the blustery voice of Larry David and the back of Lee Bear as “he” attempted to give a degree of direction to the hapless George Constanza on “Friends.” Misdirection is arguably still a direction. Another bit of air moving about between the George’s.

A cephalopod named Paul became a sensation at picking winners in the World Cup. Yet another headliner about an air-filled sphere.

Susan Boyle is “trending” on my Yahoo mail page. No wait, it is Larry Hagman. Susan’s “air” seemed so much more palpable than J.R.’s. However, J.R. ran in bigger circles.

Everyone is breathing a sigh of relief now that Bristol and Levi are going to make things right for the hapless Palin household. A hockey puck is a flat-sided sphere and certainly “Mama Grizzly is full of it. Do you really need to have me say it?

As I read this, I fear that I sound like I am tweeting. (You know, making a log on twitter.) But I neither tweet nor twitter; at least not in public.

I wish that the world’s problems could be solved by a sphere of air or a spnning wheel.

One extreme would have a scenario where the round object is a hot-air balloon and everyone is floated effortlessly about the potholes of life. But you are viewing reality at a safe distance. Nothing is totally within your grasp of scale. This leads to decisions made “out of context” with facts.

The other, of course, is the small sphere which is kicked by kids all over the world – even in the most depressed outposts – as a temporary escape from their realities. Many, in the poorest countries, are never out of touch with the scale of their existence. The soccer ball rolls “out of bounds” into a world of harshness.

Decisions in this scenario are “life and death.” The ball is merely a momentary diversion.

So how do we balance our worries about LeBron or Mel or Rush with the problems of wars, poverty, illiteracy, and the other serious situations besetting this globe we inhabit?

Trevor Field came up with an innovative idea called the Play Pump. It was variation on the “merry-go-round” found on public playgrounds all over the world. However, in this case, as the wheel turned, it pumped water into a holding tank affording a supply of water for the village. The wheel was working for great good.

However, in the rush to expand, technology failed and the idea fizzled as village after village in Africa was left with an inoperative PlayPump and no drinking water. A surprising turn in a great idea. Did the “wheel” at the “wheel” get too caught up in becoming a “bigger wheel?”

"How easily things get broken," sings the celebrant in Mass by Leonard Berstein.

Things seem to spin unexpectedly out of control.

A curious folk-artist, Buffy Sainte-Marie, sings a haunting song, “Little Wheel Spin and Spin, Big Wheel Turn around and around.” In one of the verses, the lyrics say:

Turn your back on weeds you’ve hoed,
Silly sinful seeds you’ve sowed.
Add your straw to the camel’s load.
Pray like hell when the world explodes!

When I searched online for why balls in sports are shaped as they are, I received the following: the most reasonable object to use due to the fact that they do not take any unexpected bounces.

But for many, the very definition of life is “an unexpected bounce.”