Did you go barefoot as a child? If not, you were probably a kid who lived in town and came from an at least relatively comfortable background, meaning your family had an indoor toilet, and you never picked potato bugs off your daddy’s potato plants for a penny a piece). My family, however, was poor, and we lived in the country, or as city people called it, "the sticks." So when we were little, my brother, sister, and I looked forward to the first day of May because that was when Mama would let us kick off our shoes and run barefoot through the grass and dirt, as well as over rocks and occasional pine cones or hickory nuts, not to mention chicken droppings. Of course, being poor country children, our pleasures were simple.
In case you’re wondering why we had to wait until the first day of May, it was because Mama said that if we went barefoot any sooner, we would come down with some incurable disease that would rot us from the inside out.
Not that you had to be poor or live in the country to go barefoot, but I don't think the kids from the more affluent families in my hometown, who tended to live within the city limits of Fairburn, looked forward to "Barefoot Day" with the same gusto as my siblings and I. That is, if those kids even went barefoot, which I doubt, given the streets in town were paved; and during the summer months in the Deep South, asphalt gets so hot you can literally fry eggs on it, not to mention a slab of bacon and still have heat enough left over to brown a dozen biscuits.
And what exactly is my point? Well, it's that going barefoot is good for you. One, it's good for you psychologically because it makes you feel free and unencumbered. In other words, it makes you feel lighter emotionally. (It also makes you lighter physically since shoes usually weigh from one to two or more pounds, depending upon the style.) Moreover, as you get older, going barefoot can help you get back in touch with your inner child, the part of you that dares to be true to himself or herself and doesn't give a rat's behind what other people think.
In addition, although there's no scientific data to support this theory, going barefoot makes you more creative. In fact, I would argue that the more creative a person is, the more often he or she goes barefoot. Hmm, I wonder if a study would support this hypothesis. Maybe I should undertake such a study, and if I'm proven right, the findings might very well be published in some prestigious journal, after which I'll have my fifteen minutes of fame. Nah, I don't enjoy writing scholarly articles. They require too much research and the editors want to split hairs over every other word. I much prefer writing my blog because, hey, it's my blog and I don't have to support my arguments with research.
Speaking of research, though, apparently going barefoot might also have its drawbacks. For one, it will make you more likely to contact malaria or some other tropical fever. According to an article by Maria Cheng, AP medical writer, in The Advocate (our local newspaper), ". . . scientists say there might be a potent new tool to fight the deadly mosquito-borne disease [malaria]: the stench of human feet" (p. 3A). Yep, it seems mosquitoes that carry malaria are "three times more likely to be drawn to stinky stockings" than non-stinky stockings (p. 3A). Consequently, scientists are considering developing traps that smell like stinky feet to target malaria-bearing mosquitoes. Moreover, according to Cheng, ". . . the same strategy might be used to target insects that carry other diseases such as dengue and Japanese encephalitis" (p. 3A).
So, with the findings of this scientific study in mind, maybe I need to rethink my argument that going barefoot is good for you. Give me a minute. Okay, I rethought it, and I still think I’m right. Why? Well, if for no other reason than going barefoot makes you a few pounds lighter and stepping on pine cones can count as an aerobic activity. How’s that? (Don’t blame me. My muse just deserted me.).
Source: Cheng, M. (2013) Stinky Feet May Lead to Anti-malaria Weapon. Baton Rouge, LA: The Advocate, p. 3A
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