I was wearing a pair of bright orange patent leather clog-type shoes in college in the 1970’s when, entering a bathroom in a Boston restaurant named Ken’s (famed for chopped liver sandwiches), I missed a step and sprained my right ankle. After plying me with scotch and painkillers all night, my friends took me the next day to the emergency room of a hospital where I was so loopy that I almost fell out of the wheelchair. I vaguely remember a look of disgust on the faces of some of the hospital personnel. More than thirty years later, my ankle remains compromised. Though I do have fond memories of the shimmering orange color of my shoes. They were slammin’.

-Evelyn C. White, Salt Spring Island, British Columbia

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