I have had my moccasins on for a week. They are now grafted to the bottom of my feet as were my first Gokeys some 40 years ago. Here's how I remember it happening - the memory, though only a week old, is kind of misty.

I slash away the tape, impatiently pull away the packing paper and suddenly there they are - kind of glowing softly. Dare I touch them? My fingers lengthen mystically to gently caress the top of the plug, bump around the seams and slide across the smooth bottoms.

I breathe in deeply and the scent of oil and leather infiltrates my nostrils. There are those who talk about 'new car', but it's clear they have never experienced new leather.

My left foot pulses in anticipation as it approaches the opening. Toes slide into the darkness and a finger gently pulls the back over the nob of my heel. I can hardly stand the excitement as I slip the right one on. The leather warms and they enfold my feet. There hasn't been this much excitement below my waist in years.

The wonderful sensual experience of new moccasins seems believed by only a few - my friends now say YES before I even ask if I have told them about my new moccasins.

Thank you Lyle and Elaine for keeping this art alive. Mom sends her regards from the very bottom of her new soles, too.