The Joy Of Sox...

It has been said that 'a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step'. If so, then I'm not going anywhere unless I have a nice, warm & comfortable pair of sox. As winter grudgingly melts into spring, & the 'almost up to my ears' tube sox give way to the joyful, ankle sox of summer, what deep thoughts am I pondering?

No, I am not contemplating the plight of the Rain Forests of the Amazon.
No, I am not terribly worried about labor strikes in France.
No, I am not losing sleep wondering if Tom & Katie are really in love.

My thoughts are on sox. Out with the old, in with the new. Do I have enough dress sox? Do I need to get a new supply of ankle sox for the summer? Is it finally warm enough to deep-six the tubeys? Do these sox make my ankles look fat?

If yours truly were transported into History, at crucial moments, then life as we know it would be very different, indeed. Imagine, if you will, these Twilight Zone possibilities:

3,000,000 BC: The first hominids are about to become upright creatures, moving from the trees, to becoming bi-pedal, land-roving love machines. All of the other ape-men are looking to me to start the walking revolution. The jungle falls deafly silent. A million hairy beast-things await on the edges of high-up branches for that first, permanent jump onto The Good Earth. It's up to moi. What do I grunt out as The Moment overtakes me?

"You want me to jump down where?? Homey-nid, them rocks look hella sharp. You all truly have some thick skulls if you think I'm gonna plop down onto that without something protecting my hairy feet... Someone pass me a vine, I see some Grapes over yonder."

1,500,000 BC: Homo Erectus is about to venture from his African Oasis, and cross over the land bridges to explore and populate the rest of the world. Gog and Sven and Charley are standing with me, wondering if we should take the Clan to see what is over there, in that uninhabited region:

"Naaah. I think we'd best stay here, fellas. I mean, this sand feels awfully nice n warm n soft on my toes. I vote to 'stay'. Hey -- do ya think that if we squashed these Grapes with out feet, and somehow solidified what's left, we could make some sorta Jelly? This lizard meat needs something to liven it up a bit."

49 BC: Caesar gives the command to cross the Rubicon, and begin the Roman Civil War, that would eventually lead to his rise as Emperor. My Legion of Pampered Feet gets the smoke signal to advance:

"Is Caesar nuts?? That water is hella cold, and these feet just got warmed up. And what's the deal with issueing sandals without sox?? Signal his highness and tell him to send us a postcard from Rome... Oh, and have the Gaulic slaves stomp some more grapes... ah, French wine!"

July 20, 1969: The world is glued to their boob tubes, as Mission Control switches to a live voice feed from inside the Lunar Lander:

"Buzz, I'm not stepping out there, these moon boots are chaffing my toes, and the Rocket Scientists at NASA forgot to pack the Talcum powder with our sox. You go first, instead of me. And as you take that first step onto the moon, do that Ricky Ricardo imitation of yours, & say: 'Luuuuucy, I'm hoooome!' Trust me, the boys on Pad 7 will luv it, and no one will remember what we say, anyway. And make it quick -- we need to vamouse. We're outta Grape Jam."

Yes, we can all count ourselves as lucky that History didn't depend on these feet to move Mankind forever forward. True, a journey of a thousand miles really does begin with a single step... but I'm not goin' anywhere without some decent sox.