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Sunday Mornings

Daddy had an entire routine around shoe polishing, and he had a little wooden box of kit that went with it. Perhaps it was a carry-over from times gone by, or his training in the military, but it was his particular weekly chore. I remember clearly the clean and chemical smell of shoe polish from my childhood. Funny how a scent can call up such vivid memories!

My daddy would always clean and shine our dress shoes before we went to church on Sundays; it was as traditional as attending church itself. I recall having a little giggle to myself one time, watching daddy put his (to me) giant hand inside our tiny shoes to get a better angle on cleaning them.

If you look closely at the newspaper (also a consistent part of the practice), you'll see references to the fight for women's rights, the Elvis concerts in Atlanta, the ending of the Vietnam conflict, and the Apollo-Soyuz space mission. These aren't things that I specifically remember, but I suppose I had some kind of sense that they were going on . . .

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