Wow, it’s already been 8 months for me! Honestly, time has been moving along very quickly (thank goodness). When I first arrived to Morgantown, I was issued a single pair of uncomfortable black steel-toed boots. With the limit of purchasing any footwear from the commissary store, I was able to upgrade my boots to a pair of brown Icelandic steel-toed boots, and they were quite comfortable with their gel insoles. However, I could not go to the gym or really exercise without a pair of tennis shoes. For the first few months, I waited for the Shaq Attack 3s that I had pre-ordered…you may recount this debacle. After waiting for months, the Shaq Attacks arrived. Actually, I am wearing them in the picture from the blog entry for Week 25: Talon Copas. The shoes were quite uncomfortable and only lasted about a month before being completely torn up after playing a few games of pickleball. Prior to the Shaq’s, I had been wearing a pair of old, white Nike’s that were stitched together and handed-down to me (thank you to Talon for his thoughtfulness). After the Shaq’s literally crumbled apart, I went back to wearing the white Nike’s that barely had any sole left to them. If the ground was wet, my feet would be soaked. Pebbles and stones would sneak in the shoe, and I had to constantly shake them out. The shoes had served their use quite well. Who knows how many other guys wore them.
At the end of May, on a gloriously perfect day, a commissary posting indicated that Nike Revolution 3 shoes would be available! While these new additions were the talk of the campus, I moved quickly to secure my pair. The stars, the planets, and the moons finally aligned! I was destined to own a pair of these shoes. I would argue that I was the first guy to obtain the official request slip that must be signed by an officer approving the purchase of the shoes. My time to shop was the first day the shoes would be available…and I would be the 4th person in line. This was the same excitement of waiting in line for the first generation iPhones! My chances to obtain the shoes were excellent! When I arrived to the commissary window, the slip was taken for processing…now the waiting game began.
One week later, a list of names were posted to a central bulletin board indicating that the shoes were ready for pick-up…and my name was on that list!!! If you’ve followed some of my earlier blogs, I wrote about how joyed in anticipation it was to shop for the first time since I had arrived with absolutely nothing to my name. Well, I was just as excited about these shoes. I picked them up from the store and carefully placed them in my locker where they anxiously waited almost 8 hours for me to try them on. I would be their Cinderella! After work, I showered and even put on a new pair of socks for this solemn occasion…and the size 10 Nike Revolution 3’s were too small and too tight. NOOOOOO, it couldn’t be. I have worn size 10 Nike’s my entire adult life. I was determined to break them in and assured myself that they just needed a little stretch. I tried playing a game of pickleball, but my feet hurt so much. I understood the pang of Asian feet binding. Then, reports around campus started flowing in that the shoe sizes were running significantly smaller (like European sizing). NOOOOOO, it couldn’t be. I had called Drew to tell him how excited I was about the shoes. He looked them up on Nike.com and found that they were $49.99, but BOP policy charges a premium for commissary services. The shoes were $74.10. I then told him that they didn’t fit me at all.
I was sulking a few days later and trying to convince myself that the foot pain was worth gain on such sacred shoes. One of my bandmates indicated that he was a size 9 and hadn’t new shoes for the 2+ years that he has been in Morgantown. Then, I had a brilliant idea, “try my shoes…if they fit, then just grab a larger size when you shop so we could swap shoes.” He tried them and was the shoes’ Cinderella. They perfectly fit him. I told him to just use them and grab me the right size during the next shopping day, which would be the next day.
He had his paperwork all set. I saw him waiting in the commissary line and attempting to hand the paper to the guy who collects the orders. Wait, the guy didn’t take his paper?! Why? I ran over and asked. He said that they ran out of shoes. No. Impossible. How? The shoes just posted a week prior. Then, I learned that they had only ordered something like 45 shoes in different sizes for the entire population of 600+ guys. Oh no, this can’t be happening, but it had. It was a serious sobering disappointment. I no longer had shoes or any hope for them. I really had to go back to the drawing board and didn’t know what I would do about shoes. The old, white Nike’s were literally hanging on by threads with gaping holes in their soles. How would I even play pickleball?!
Fast forward to this past Tuesday, when a bulletin was posted that 3 pairs of Nike shoes were available. My shopping day was a few days away, so there was absolutely no chance that I would obtain a pair…unless some brave soul who shopped sooner would do purchase them for me. At $74.10 for the pair, it would have been a huge ask of anyone, but I wouldn’t have made such an imposition on anyone.
I went to work thinking about shoes lol. Is this what women do a lot? Then, my supervisor asked me to go to the commissary and conduct a safety inspection. So, off I went to inspect the electrical outlets. I asked the guys working if they had any issues with their lights or receptacles. They showed me a few lights that had been out in the main shopping area. As I was working to repair the fixtures, I made small talk with one of the workers. “You wouldn’t have any Nike’s left?” I asked. He replied, “Nope, those are all gone.” Then, he looked where they keep them and commented, “well, there is one pair left…size 11.” I leaped off the ladder and had to lay eye on the shoes to see if it was true. Jokingly (sort of), I further inquired about what would I have to do to purchase them. He instructed me to fill-out the paperwork and they would be mine when I shopped the next day. My heart thumped and thumped. Was he actually serious or kidding? Then he produced the paper, and I quickly filled it out.
The next day was my shopping day (again). I purchased the shoes in the size that would ultimately fit. Here is the kicker (pun-intended)…my available account balance was exactly $74.10. I had the exact amount of money for the shoes. I finally have the shoes, and I have given much, much thanks and praise for them…for this incredible little miracle. Little miracles like this have happened to me over the last 8 months, which helps re-affirm that I am on the right path to healing and redemptive rehabilitation. I am eternally grateful to everyone that have supported me throughout this journey and for all the love and encouragement to endure the prison experience. When I wear those Nike’s, each step I take in comfort and newness, I am reminded of how incredibly blessed I am. I wish you an amazing week and please continue to look for those little miracles!