Nov. 27, 2017: The New Yorker, p. 43. A cartoon by (is it) LEINER? It shows the Prince, after the ball. Cinderella's glass slipper is on the ground in front of him, and the forlorn Prince is looking down at it. Cinderella's coach, now a pumpkin on wheels, is far from him, headed homeward to where Cinderella will resume her servant girl role at the command of her stepmother and stepsisters.
Out of the Prince's head balloons these words: She's smart, she's funny, she's beautiful--but she leaves her shoes all over the place.
Several of us left our shoes "all over the place" in Madagascar. I left behind two pairs of shoes: Nike (or were they New Balance) cross trainers--black with purple accents, a gift from my sister, Evangeline, when I moved with my husband, Arland, to Northfield over six years ago; and a new pair of Ecco black, with grey accents, walking sandals, bought just before this trip to Madagascar.
Inside the athletic shoes was a hope that my sister and I would take many walks together, and that I would get in shape, too.
I left behind my favorite beach towel, too. Not just any beach towel. It was made of thick, colorful cotton, covered with tropical fish not unlike the ones some of our group had snorkeled to see in a heavenly ocean getaway spot called Lokaro, which still harbors living coral reefs. This towel held dreams and memories of times with our three sons and our grandson, by the water. In one corner of the towel was a place to cover and hold an infant's head.
Lest you think, for one moment, that altruism was behind my taking leave of shoes and a favorite beach towel, be not deceived. I needed space in my suitcase to hold the small gifts I had purchased to share with folks at home. Also, due to an allergic reaction to either insect bites or medication, my feet and lower legs had swollen to double their size. I could not wear either shoes or sandals.
I had to wear flip-flops with a pair of socks from Antananarivo to Mauritius to Paris to Minneapolis.
It makes me very happy to know that two Malagasy have feet protected in part by my pairs of shoes. It makes me even more happy to know that someone is sitting on, lying on, or wrapped in that thick cotton beach towel full of brightly-colored tropical fish. With a special little hoodie to cover a child's head.