I am blessed. I know this. As winter weather approaches, I have a few wool coats of various lengths from short and cute to “legally could be a bathrobe.” I have two leather coats, a rain jacket and a denim jacket for casual but cool days. I even have a gorgeous cashmere sweater because my future daughter-in-law is a gem and spoils me.
As someone who was seemingly born with cold feet — literally — I also have an arsenal of footwear. Leather boots of varying heights. Thick winter boots that feel like clouds underfoot. Wool socks. Thermal socks. Insulated socks. Furthermore, I have a gorgeous pair of leather boots that are practically heirloom quality and another pair of English wellies for stomping around puddles — something I do precisely NEVER. I do not lack variety in my choice of outerwear.
Still, no matter how ample my choices may be, I solemnly swear that I cannot and will not forget my roots. Let it never be forgotten that I come from a strong line of “bread bags worn as boots” folk.
Practical
For the record, we weren’t poor. We were just making decisions based on the practical frugality that has served our people very well for generations. Waste not, want not.
I always had one nicely fitted pair of warm winter boots as a child growing up in the 1970s. Emphasis on “a” pair. One pair. If they were left at home or a friend or family member’s house then I went without until they were retrieved. I didn’t have spare pairs.
Fortunately for me, I come from resourceful stock. We only had to slide some bread bags over my stocking feet, slide my feet into my shoes, and there ya go — waterproof boots! Sort of. If you had a particularly overprotective guardian, the order was socks, bags, snow pants and then boots with rubber bands to hold them up. Even as a twig of a kid, that rubber band would leave a ring on my ankle for hours. No snow got in though!
Some people had success sliding the bags OVER their shoes, but that was a literal slippery slope and I was not a child blessed with grace. Regardless of how the layering was achieved, the addition of that magical plastic bag bought at least another hour of playing outside.
Sure, my feet would sweat and probably get cold at a certain point. However, it was the 70s and 80s (or earlier), and we weren’t whiners. We just sucked it up and went sledding anyway.
Years later, I volunteered for playground duty at our children’s school. I was shocked to learn they weren’t allowed to go outside for recess if there was snow on the ground. Different eras, I suppose. It took a blizzard to cancel recess in the 70s — and even then just barely.
Sometimes I tried to just wing it in regular footwear. My Great Gram had a homing signal for those kinds of shenanigans and would never allow me out without the bread bags on my feet — not even for the briefest little foray around the yard.
Her fear was that I would catch “my death of cold.” She was a college-educated and highly intelligent woman, but nothing would ever convince all the fine women of her generation that being cold did not actually CAUSE colds and flu.
Weather
We didn’t always need snow bread bag “boots” of course. As a product of a state with fickle weather patterns, I am well versed in the wearing of a winter coat over a Halloween costume. Some years it snowed Oct. 31 but was inexplicably warm enough to wander around in just a tee shirt sans jacket on my birthday just two weeks later.
It also explains why things like coats and snow boots were often forgotten at various relative’s homes. I could arrive in full winter gear and boots, and by the time we left for home after a visit, I didn’t even need my coat. As the saying goes, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes; it will change. That is what kept us on our toes — and wearing bread bags OVER them.
I think next time I get nostalgic for the past, I’m going to pile on multiple layers of hat, scarf, snow pants, mittens, socks, bread bags and shoes. Then, for authenticity, I’m going to decide I really have to use the bathroom and I will immediately take it all off to start all over again.
Oh the memories your article conjured up. I too, was a child in the 60’s and 70’s. The one pair of boots per child, the plastic bags over the socks inside the shoes, and Grandma’s flour sack dish towels tied around our heads like a kerchief if we forgot our hats. And playing outside no matter how cold it was. We dressed for the weather
, toughed it out and enjoyed life
~ well until the long (over a mile ) walk home from sledding when we were wet, freezing and miserable. It taught us endurance. Thanks for the memories !