Try as I may, I think I can only write about stupid stuff, mostly. I guess that shows my intellect is on par withat of an 8 year old, which is not meant to insult 8year olds. It is just that I find only silly things interesting when most folks my age or older are always very serious. If you must know, I just turned 47 this past Sunday and I really do not feel any different than I did on Saturday when I was 46. One day later, one year older.
So here it goes; off to the races with some random topic I find relevant or interesting for the day. The topic of today’s column is the sunburn. It is not just the everyday sitting in the sun and watching a ballgame sunburn; I am talking about a sunburn to the tops of the feet after spending half a day swimming in the Gulf of Mexico with everything nice and protected from the sun, but my feet.
I did not realize that my feet were in the deep fryer until that afternoon while I was watching the Blue Angels do their thing. It felt as if someone had started to pour molten lava onto my feet and when I looked down at them, I knew this vacay was about to get interesting. How does a 46-year old man; I was still 46 at the time, so I will blame it on the ignorance of my youth, let himself get sunburned in such a dumb place? I mean, just my feet…how did I forget or actually never think about putting that SPF 200 on my feet?
Well, that was on Thursday and we were not leaving until Sunday, so I spent the next three days and the subsequent week after barefooted. I stayed in the shade when I walked and my ol’ feet toughened up over the week. They were horrible looking, to say the least, and odd at the same time because they were the only part of my body that was burnt. I actually rarely ever let the ol’ feet see the sunlight and I have somewhat of a nice tan all the way down to the ankle ball. Before the burn, it looked like I had dipped just my feet into a bucket of white paint. After the burn, not so much.
I will tell you this much from my experience; I may get burned somewhere else, but I will never let my feet get burned again. I will slather on the sunblock, or better yet, find a bucket of it and dip my feet into it because these big 13’s are just now becoming usable again. I tried to hang with the fam, and for the most part I did, but it was miserable, to say the least, because there was sun and sand everywhere, and the sand was HOT. Now, I will say that the evening strolls on the beach in the cool sand were nice with the waves and such splashing over the steppers, but what I found odd was that everyone seemed to step on my feet, regardless of where I was and if I was sitting, standing or walking.
Those big red glowing feet attracted everybody’s feet in my family. I think all but one of my family members stepped on my feet at one point or another. Wife—Check, oldest son—Check, youngest son—Check, middle son—he somehow avoided them, but you get my point. When I got home, my dog—Check.
By the way, I have graduated from bare footedness to some Sanuks and the pain is gone, but the peeling has set in. My feet will never be the same, and as a 47-year old, I now know to protect my feet. Oh yeah, this is a sports column and feet are relevant to sports, so here you go––my youngest son asked me, “Daddy, what if you had to play a baseball game today?” (a day when the feet were really bad), and I responded, “Son, I would have tied them there cleats on a little looser and got after it.”
I was trying to teach him a lesson in toughness and whatnot, so he would see that his pops has that never-quit attitude and hopefully that would be instilled in him; you know, my toughness and all, and he just grinned and said, “No you wouldn’t.” I guess the hollering when my wife was rubbing on that cool aloe vera gel gave me away, or the hollering in the shower, or me saying, “Hey, wait up,” with every step I took. Oh well, at least one lesson was learned and I will pass it along to all. If you still got a vacay to go on and it is to the beach…do not forget about your feet, people!!!
By the way, did I ever tell y’all about the time I got a fresh flat top haircut on a Friday, I was a police officer at the time and I thought it was a cool look and all, and went to a football game the very next day, where I sat in sun for five hours with no hat on. Yes, that happened, but I will spare the details. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sun, because if it’s out that usually means the games are still going to be played and the rain is gone, but as beautiful as it is, that one-eyed monster will get you.
