Bronze Boots

A jewelry store advertised in the local paper: Bronze boots 2 for the price of 1. First thing in the morning Carl's big boots clumped out of the house, and at sunset, after a hard day at whatever construction job, they clumped back into the house, a solid, reassuring sound that all was right with the world. When a loved one dies, one is inclined to cling to something, and after the clothes, the truck, the guns, the dogs, all were disposed of, I kept the boots, for no good reason, except they reminded me of the person that was dearest to my heart. So when I saw the ad, I thought, great, I'll get these boots bronzed. I plunked them on the counter. Eldie was the sales clerk. "Katie," she said, "We bronze baby booties." I replied, "That's not what the ad said" and she went off the call the manager. After a little back and forth, he said, "Okay, we'll go ahead and bronze the boots, 2 for the price of 1" and so they became a touchstone. The boots are present at weddings, baptisms, memorials, graduations, a happy reminder of a wonderful husband and father. 

Sometime later I ran into the manager and I was surprised when he thanked me for bringing in the boots. 

Seems like Margie Monteleone had Carl's golf shoes bronzed, and several other people had come in and also had their special memories immortalized.