Growing up I lived in a very rural area outside of Pulaski (known for excellent kayaking and fishing on the Salmon River, so maybe you've heard of it). There's a lot of farming out that way. Stevie wore the most incredibly cool boots. Ever. They were simple cowboy boots, but I'd never seen anything so wonderful. As a kid, I didn't have a very keen sense of fashion - I was a total tomboy, so if the garb didn't work well in the swamp while catching frogs, odds are I wouldn't wear it.
I came home and told my mom about Stevie's boots and, not being on the cutting edge of cowboy fashion, she apparently didn't know what the Hell I was talking about. She suggested they were "shoe boots." I asked what "shoe boots" were and she told me they were rubber boots that you slip on over your shoes. Then she told me she had a pair that I could have.
I went rummaging through mom's closet and found them - a pair of black rubber boots that my Granddad wore over his shoes to keep them clean in the mud. I slipped them on my feet and posed in front of the mirror for hours. I had boots just like Stevie's and I felt like a Goddess. Of course they were about 5 sizes too big for my feet, and since Stevie didn't wear shoes under HIS boots, I wasn't going to wear shoes under MINE.
For one entire summer I wore those foolish things, clomp-clomping around the back forty with my sisters in tow. I wore them with shorts, dresses, my bathing suit. I wore them with EVERYTHING.
One day my cousin Heidi and I, along with my sisters and two other childhood friends were on our way to swimming lessons and I had on my shoe boots. The drive to swimming lessons took us right past Stevie's house, which was somewhat dilapidated and located right in the midst of a dairy farm.
Now, from birth to about 5th grade, Heidi was kind of a bully. She was about 3 months older than me, bigger and a lot tougher (she had older brothers and sisters). She was not afraid of me, that's for sure. She also knew that my boots were an attempt to pay tribute to Stevie, and "outed" me for my crush earlier that day.
Upstate New York dairy farms have a unique odor in the summertime - and Stevie's farm was no different. As we approached the farm, I strained my neck hoping to see him playing in the yard. Heidi picked up on it, and shouted in front of everyone, "Stevie's house smells like cows! You better plug your nose or everyone will know that you loooooooooooooove him!"
I was utterly humiliated and heartbroken that she would betray me like this, but I held my ground while the other girls laughed at me and held their fingers over their noses. I didn't plug my nose, and I glared at Heidi as we passed Stevie's house. I don't think Stevie ever knew how much I liked him and his cowboy boots. But I certainly was devoted.
So, point of the story? I guess there is none, other than it sucks being smaller than your bullying cousin. I sure would have liked to kick her ass that day.
A few years later Doug Britton tried to lift up my skirt and show my underwear to the class. Heidi beat him down. From that day forward, Heidi was ok in my book.