A long time ago, in my years at Lincoln elementary school in Cedar Rapids, I had a classmate who made money shining peoples' shoes.
I know because he sometimes brought his shoeshine kit to school with him.
His name was James Foster.
James was the kid with whom I attended my first Hawkeye basketball game at Iowa Fieldhouse.
But I've written that column before.
Maybe a version of it will appear here again sometime.
Now back to shoeshining.
I never talked to James Foster about it, but evidently he brought his shoe polish, rag, brush and whatever else he needed with him to Lincoln for his after-school job in some other area of Cedar Rapids.
I thought it was strange then and, as I look back, I think it's even stranger now that he carried his shoeshine kit to Lincoln.
However, that was in an era when shoeshining was a somewhat popular and, I guess, somewhat profitable occupation.
I just didn't know that fourth- and fifth-graders were doing it.
I'd see adult shoeshiners at various locations around town, especially in bus stations and airports.
When I was older and in various airports around the nation I'd see shoeshine stands in men's restrooms.
Most times the shoeshiners [most of whom were African American men] would keep up a steady flow of conversation with their customers, much like the barbers of then and now, while doing their jobs.
Then shoeshiners seemed to disappear.
I don't get to as many places these days as I once did, but I figured shoeshining had gone the way of men wearing ties to church, women wearing hats anywhere, and of Studebaker, Nash and DeSoto automobiles.
I was thinking that the art of shoe-shining would never be seen again.
Huh-uh.
I was in the Denver, Colo., airport a few days ago, and noticed two shoeshine stands there.
The shoeshiners, both of whom were caucasian men, were busy.
One was shining a man's dress shoes, the other was shining a woman's western boots.
Another man was waiting patiently to have his shoes shined.
The man and the woman whose shoes and boots were being shined were sitting in elevated chairs, just like in the old days.
If I'd had more time, I would've had my shoes shined.
Indeed, I'm glad shoeshiners are still around.
Now I'm wondering whatever happened to James Foster.
[Cartoon of shoeshine stand courtesy of Google].
