35-Years of Wearing Boots

My son follows in my footsteps

My son just got a job wearing boots.

35-years ago, I enlisted in the USAF. It was a spur of the moment decision, largely driven by my father finding out I failed every class at the local Community College. He was a driven man; son of a welder who ended up with a Masters in Mathematics from Carnegie Melon. I was a 2.2 GPA student who failed out of Community College. It was like water and vinegar, and living at home wasn’t an option.

Twenty-three years of wearing combat boots later, I retired from the USAF as an E-7, and immediately went to work for Siemens Energy, as a field technician inspecting power plants, still wearing boots everyday. That was 12-years ago.

I’m a grandfather now. I make a pretty good living. I have a cabin, cars, a house in at the base of the foothills in Boise… but I have to put on boots every time I go to work to be able to afford it. And I’m not alone. Pretty much every physical thing around you right now was made by someone wearing boots. Factories, construction sites, electrical plants, water plants, all full of people who wear Timberlands, or Red Wings, or one of the other hundred brands of boot makers out there.

I’ll be wearing boots until I retire, and that’s ok. There’s a certain pride in having a job where boots are required. Boot wearers do shit. They make stuff. They get dirty. They drink beer. Have BBQs. Raise kids. And now my son is wearing boots now as well. I hope he is as proud of his boots as I am of mine.