Shtekshikh (or for those of you who don't know Yiddish)-Houseslippers

As I slipped into my well-worn slippers this morning to clean the yard from the "presents" my dogs leave me first thing in the morning, I looked down at my slippers-my big toe  had poked up a hole through my right slipper and they slanted in funny directions as I walked.  I thought about how these old, misshapen slippers were really one of my best-loved garments, offering comfort when I wake up and again, at the end of the day.  I can't even bear to think that these slippers may soon have to be replaced.  It takes years to wear in a good pair of house slippers!

Slippers are worn by every culture in every part of the world.  What we know today as slippers take their origin from sandals and sandals in turn go back at least to ancient Egypt.  In European history, the mention of slippers occurs in England in the 15th century and refers to soft shoes that the foot can easily be "slipped" into, as opposed to boots and other footwear that needs to be laced, tied, etc.


So, even my grandparents had "shtekshikh" and I thought about my grandfather's old leather slippers and my mother's more fashionable ones-her Daniel Green "comfies" with room for the toes to stick out and my dad's stiffer leather slippers, that he actually wore far less than the boots he used as he tromped through the cattle pens on our farm.  I've noticed that most men are far more reluctant to wear their houseslippers than women.  Can somebody tell me why?


My son and his wife don't like people to wear their street shoes when they visit their home. So, they have placed Walmart bargain slippers at the front door for guests.  I am reluctant to "slip" these on-they are stiff, don't conform to my foot and I'm afraid I"ll break my neck in them.  So, at their house, I just 
"sock" it.  


What brings you comfort when you come home at the end of the day?  I believe, if you are a homebody ( and probably a woman) you slip on your "shtekshikh" don't you?  

A Poem A Day

I challenged myself to write a poem a day.  Some days are better than others, both in creativity and mood.  Here are a few samples:

A friend asked:
"How Was the Funeral?"

People hugged and signed their names
The seats were filled
The music played
There was some laughter
Elbows prodded
Necks craned
To see who else came.

Some looked older
Others still young
And children whose journey
Had just begun.

The Rabbi spoke
And family too
They said some wonderful
Things about you.

Tears were shed
The folks filed out
The pallbearers lifted
Their burden.

The grave was dug
So squared and stout
The coffin lowered with a creak
The dirt thundered down
In hollow sounds
To put you to eternal sleep.

And your beloved granddaughter wept
Because her heart was broken
Her tears and sobs more eloquent
Than any words that had been spoken.

Something lighter:

Cyber world
of tweets
And posts
and blogs

Fast food world
of sliders
and Grab n' Go

Love world
of Match.com
And winks.

Old slow world
I miss you so.