As a 5th generation Arizona native, when I think of cowboy boots, I think of my grandfather. Marvin Williams, Senior: longtime teacher, Christian, lifeguard, and at one point, Mr. Tempe Beach. Growing up in such a large family with over a couple dozen cousins, he was the leader of our pack. We’d all frequent his home in downtown Mesa, which felt more like all of our homes, and I remember he’d pull out his “fancy boots” for church. They were all leather, black, with thick, bright thread and intricate engraving. I watched him wear these, until he couldn’t wear them anymore. These boots took him to weddings, blessings, graduations, and holiday gatherings. What were once his prized, ‘Sunday’s best’ boots - were eventually worn, and scuffled.
I’m thankful for the long wear these cowboy boots provided for my grandfather. (We called him Papa). The smell of his old, rustic cologne paired with his famous Hawaiian tee shirts, Levis, and cowboy boots are a bright image in all our memories. I would argue that sometimes the things we are most grateful for aren’t things at all, but rather memories. Sometimes, triggered by smell, other times, a song, and for some, a pair of boots.
Cowboy boots are a lot like a time capsule, the years pass, but life in them grows. The journey of my grandfather’s boots started at Saba’s Western Wear in Chandler. Saba’s opened in the Great Depression and never closed once.
I can picture my grandfather, young, spry, trying on a pair of boots in the store, making sure they’d fit. Now, 30 years later, staring at his old boots, I’m reminded of just how grateful I am to have such vivid memories of a person who meant so much to me. Sometimes something ordinary like a pair of boots can remind you of just how precious life is, and how grateful you really are for both time and memories. Dress them up, or dress them down, cowboy boots feel more like a legacy, than just your average pair of shoes. I wonder if yours have a good story or two in them as well.