Subject: The Road to Barefooting
Date: Sat, 04 Jan 1997 20:16:46 -0500

Well, here I am digging up an old thread.  That's OK though.  It was a
pretty good one.  My road to barefooting was long and winding, but I
eventually got there.  It willprobably surprise you to know that I
started in life totally _against_ going barefoot.

                                    Part I
                              In the beginning...

	I live in a fairly rural part of East Central Ohio, tucked away
in a house on the side of one hill and surrounded by several others.
This part of Ohio is part of the Appalachian Region.  This part of the
country often gets a bad rap.  It is a region characterized by high
unemployment, isolation, and the left-over high walls, pits, and
railroad beds from the old mining companies which exploited the
resources over the years.  People here are often the butt of
"hillbilly" jokes.  There are positive traits as well.  People here
usually stick together.  Wonderful examples of Folk Art and Folk Music
have come from this region. Rolling hills provide a marvelous backdrop
to any location.  Listen to the majestic music of Copland's
"Appalachian Spring," and try to visualize it.  That's what it looks
like.

	My family are, like most people around here, all living, almost
clan-like, in the same general area, often within walking distance.
You'll notice the extended family concept here.  Cousins are viewed
with the same closeness as brothers and sisters, and aunts and uncles
nearly the same as parents.  We look out for each other and help each
other.  There are often big family get togethers.  The few who do move
away return home as often as possible, so we hardly lose contact with
each other.  We're rather suspicious of strangers.  Among the older
folks, this extends to people who wear a suit and tie to work, and
those with an "edgy-cation."  I'm not the first in the family to go to
college, but have been told by more than one relative that I wasted my
time, and should have went out and looked for a "real" job, not one of
those suit and tie things like the "lazy people" do.  There are some
real treasures about living in such an environment, but there are some
drawbacks as well.

	Barefooting is fairly common among folks here, around home.  My
dad and his brothers and sisters go barefoot.  Even my 88 year old
grandmother is still seen unshodmore than shod.  This trait stems from
the old days when incomes were limited. Many of my relatives remember
the depression, and several others worked in the coal mines and sewer
pipe plants. Going barefoot was a practical move, as it helped keep
shoes longer. When I was a child, such things were no longer necessary.
Still, I often heard, "Take your shoes off.  Save your shoes."  Old
habits die hard.  There was also teasing.  "Get the stink blowed of
your feet. It's good for 'em."  Being the painfully shy person that I
am, I never liked the teasing.  One of the less attractive attitudes
which prevails among the people here is the one that goes: "If you
don't think or do like me, then there's something wrong with you."
Giving in to such prompts didn't really help.  I was teased even more.
"Isn't that better?"  "Boy, you should see Mike.  He _finally_ took his
shoes off."  "EEEWWW!! Smell that stink!!."  As a result, the more I
was prompted and teased, the more I resisted.

	This negative attitude followed me through childhood, and into
adulthood.  I didn't start college until I was 21.  When I got there,
one of the first things I noticed wasother students going barefoot.
For quite some time I ignored it; shrugged it off.  Years of having a
negative attitude doesn't allow one to change overnight.  After a
while, I found myself wondering if it'd be OK for me.  Would I be
noticed and teased like back home?

	My first steps to barefooting were tentative.  Just around the
dorm, to the TV lounge.  Places like that.  The next step was the large
porch on the front of the dorm.  I got more comfortable as there were
always a few other barefooters around.  That first year of college,
barefooting didn't extend beyond that.  The next three years, I lived
in the Performing Arts House, a Coed.  special interest living unit
inhabited mostly by music and theater majors. Arts oriented people tend
to be more open minded about things in general, so barefooting became
easier.  My treks were extended to the occasional evening hike to the
music building practice rooms, and trips to and from the concert hall
when I practiced on the big pipe organ.

	I returned to college for my junior year.  We had an unbearably
hot summer which extended well into the fall.  Several students went
around campus barefoot.  By this time I was considerably more
comfortable than I had been, and after all, in the hot weather, bare
feet were far more comfortable than shoes.  My barefoot treks now
included late night trips to the post office and the Laundromat.
Surprisingly, those signs which seem to loom over us everywhere we go
weren't that common.  For my whole barefoot period in college, I was
never hassled anywhere.  As time went on, my inhibitions gradually wore
down to almost nil.  I say "almost" because I was still quite shy about
going barefoot around the family.  For the long drives home on
weekends, I would be barefoot until I reached the bottom of the hill,
then pull over to put on the shoes.

	Even after these several years, I still hesitate to barefoot
around the family.  They still like to make those teasing comments that
shy people don't like. It's funny how some things tend to follow you
throughout life.

                                   Part II
                       The road turns toward the DSS

	After graduation, I sorely missed the barefoot friendly
environment of college.  My barefooting now moved to walks around home;
out in the woods, wading in creeks, and in the garden.  I began to take
long drives, going to the lake, and generally hanging out at places
where barefoot was considered "normal."  It was during this time that I
began to notice those signs on the store fronts.  It was a puzzle,
really. Why should going barefoot be a problem?  In some places, it was
no trouble, but in others...  It was always nice to encounter another
barefooter, but that was very rare.  After a time, I began to wonder if
there were any like minded people with a positive attitude toward
barefooting.  Surely in a country as huge and diverse as the USA, there
had to be someone somewhere who had some kind of club or organization
related to barefooting.  I began searching, looking through library
card catalogues.  I found some references to things like Reflexology
which usually extolled the virtues of going barefoot.  I purchased a
medical book which had a section devoted to barefooting and its
positive benefits.  Then I searched the newspaper and magazine
databases.  There was precious little.  Most references to bare feet
were inarticles about refugees and third world countries.  I did find
an article about Richard's Barefoot Hiking group in CT, and a story
about the Barefoot Ballroom, a place where you are required to leave
shoes and socks at the door, in Manhattan.  Both were, however, too far
away to visit regularly.

	It was in the spring of '95 that I was going through the now
familiar routine of typing the magic keyword "barefoot" into a magazine
database, that I had two interesting results.  One was another article
about Richard's group (boy, that guy has a good publicity agent!!), and
another was a brief article about the Dirty Sole Society.  I read with
interest about folks who just like to go around in their bare feet.
Nothing more.  No sex scam, nothing like that.  "Surely," I thought,
"these folks sound like they're right up my alley."  I went to the
magazine section of the library and pulled out the back issue where the
article appeared.  Imagine my disappointment to find that this
organization was accessible only by e-mail.  How in the world would I
do that?  I had no computer.  In fact, I had used computers very
little.  I knew hardly anything about the internet, let alone how to
get on it.  Still, I wrote down the e-mail address; just in case.

	I was now taking university classes again in order to add the
field of Specific Learning Disabilities to my teaching certificate.
When I returned to classes in the fall, I began asking around about
internet access.  "Yes," I learned, it was possible to get a computer
account through the university, and have access to the internet.  I
went to the computer center and filled out all the stuff.  When it was
all set up, I made a beeline to the computer lab and began "playing
around."As soon as I figured out the e-mail thing, I pulled out the
scrap of paper from my wallet which bore the DSS e-mail address.  I
typed it in, composed a brief note, and hit "Send."  This was the old
"...psu.edu" address, and of course, the note was bounced back.  Once
again, disappointment.  I tried once more, just to make sure I got it
right.  Same result.  I returned to the library where I found the
magazine article to make sure I had written it down right.  Yes, I had.

	Oh well, all was not lost.  Now that I had internet access, I
had a whole new world of information at my fingertips.  I would begin
learning more about it, and expanding my barefoot search.  One day, I
was in the bookstore, and picked up a copy of the Meckler Media
Internet Yellow Pages.  Guess what?  The DSS was listed within. Guess
what else?  The address was slightly different from the one in my
wallet.  I could hardly wait to get back to the university and try it
out.  When I went to class, I stopped by the lab and typed in the same
polite note to the slightly different address.  It was still a
"...psu.edu" address, so it, too, was bounced back.  Disappointment
again.

	I soon began exploring the world of cyberspace; looking into
Usenet News, and sending e-mail to a friend who had an e-mail address.
I learned about web browsers and how to get to those "http://"
addresses.  One of the groups I enjoyed looking into was
rec.backcountry.  It was here that I began to follow with interest an
interesting thread about barefoot hiking.  The stodgy old boogers there
seemed to be ganging up on a guy who was promoting barefoot hiking.
Rather than having his spirits dampened, this fellow actually seemed to
enjoy the oft heated debate.  I could easily picture a whole host of
hikers sitting at their computers, red faced, and eyes and veins
bulging as they kept trying to tear down the arguments of this barefoot
champion.  I could also picture him sitting at his computer, probably
barefoot, with a broad grin on his face.

	Well, you probably guessed it.  This exuberant fellow was none
other than our own Mike Berrow.  On one of his posts, he made a
reference to his Barefoot Hiking pages, and gave the URL.  I checked it
out, reading testimonials, and all sorts of interesting things.  I also
stumbled across the words "Dirty Sole Society."  Hey, wasn't the place
I was trying to contact?  I looked into those pages.  YES!!  This was
it!  I dropped a note to some guy named Paul, and received a nice note
in reply. After a few days, I followed the instructions, and sent in my
information.

	I was surprised at the speedy response was from the DSS.  Same
day service.  I'll bet the post office can't beat that.  Yes, I was in!
I read with interest the membership list. "Frazine? Hey, isn't he the
guy I read about in the two articles?"  "Wow," I thought, "they're all
here."  The rest, as they say, is history.

	There are two great ironies here.  The first is that I am still
a painfully shy person.  It doesn't bother me in a teaching situation.
I can function quite well professionally. Personally though, I hardly
speak to strangers, and usually keep to myself.  Sometimes being shy
can be quite a handicap.  So why does a shy person enjoy going
barefoot? Who knows.  The other great irony is that bare feet always
have that negative aura of ignorance surrounding them.  Barefoot people
have, among other thing, been considered backward and stupid.  In my
case, it was bare feet that propelled me to take computers more
seriously, and launched me toward the twenty-first century.