Smelly Feet Spinelli

Imagine living in a small town surrounded by beautiful hills, winding roads, a curvy river, and cows. Lots and lots of cows. And of course, in this little town, everyone knows everybody, and everybody knows everyone’s cows. My family had six: Betsy, Luna, Moody, Mona, Stinky Bell and Lazy. Before school, I always had to wake up three hours early to milk all six of them. Luna was the easiest, and Lazy, the fattest, always took ten minutes more than the others, but Stinky Bell was the absolute worst! Because of anxiety, she couldn’t get through an entire milking without tooting.

And boy, did it reek!

Thankfully, Mama had the sense to make me shower in the last hour of my morning chores before rushing me off to the catch up with the bus.

However, despite sitting through Stinky Bell breaking wind every morning for almost fifteen years, the absolutely worst part about living in a small town was that everybody knew my Grandpa Stanley Spinelli – not for his stinky cow, his gap-tooth grin, or even his fake eyeball, but for his god-awful, smelly feet.

Because he would always loose his shoes & socks on the way home from work, Grandpa was known as the infamous “Smelly Feet Spinelli” around town. Of course, I loved my grandpa to bits, but it always embarrassed me every time I saw him walking home without his shoes and socks. Luckily, Grandpa never had to walk too far, but it was enough to do some damage to the bottoms of his feet.

However, despite any bruises or cuts he would bring home, he never complained.

But the strangest thing was – Grandpa’s shoes and socks would magically reappear on the doorstep every morning. It was almost like he would always meet up with a guilty shoe thief every day before coming home from work.

However, Grandpa didn’t used to be like that.

Before Grandma died about ten years ago, he was mostly normal. Grandma was his world, and ever since she passed, he wasn’t completely right in the head. Sure, he had a clean bill of health (except for the condition of his calloused, smelly feet), and his mind seemed sharper than ever, but no one knew nor understood why he would leave with his shoes and come back without. It was the biggest mystery in Cowville (clever, right?).

When walking barefoot started becoming a pattern, Mama was concerned and actually took him to a second psychologist to assess his mental health more thoroughly. But regardless of what Mama might have been thinking, Grandpa was as fit as a fiddle.  

However, his strange choice of going barefoot affected me more than I cared to admit. You see, I never told my parents, nor my grandfather, that I had been bullied in school. At first, I thought it was because I didn’t clean very well after Stinky Bell’s foul encore, but after the third time, I finally found out it had nothing to do with Stinky B.

During recess one year, a few of the older kids surrounded me when I was crawling inside the playground’s tire fortress and held me down against my will as Tommy Stevenson – the meanest bully of the entire school – tore off my brand-new light-up shoes and my pink Unicorn socks before tossing them as far away from me as possible. He almost fell over his belly for laughing so hard when they landed in a muddy puddle on the other side of the playground.

And then, the realization was instant.

I clamped my hands over my ears as hard as I could when the kids started shouting their newest bully chant, “SMELLY MELONIE!” – which was obviously deviated from what the grownups call Grandpa behind his back.  Because their toxic voices were too much and too strong for me to muffle completely, I pleaded with them to stop, but they wouldn’t. Eventually, I found myself staring outside the fortress and I caught the recess monitor’s attention. I prayed she would stop the taunting, and she almost did, but the bell rang, resonating from the school’s walls, forcing all of them to run back to class.

Of course, they left me behind, and the monitor followed the kids as if she didn’t even see me.

I was alone.

Not even my teacher cared enough to look for me after another class period passed by. I’m not sure why, but after being alone inside that fortress for almost an hour, I knew no one would rescue me. I finally calmed myself down enough to gather my courage and stand up. I could feel the tiny rocks poking hard into my feet, but the pain was far more searing when I took my first step onto the hot rocks of the playground. The sharp points were pushing against my sensitive skin, but I pressed on, practically hopping my way towards my shoes and socks.

Just as they were within my reach, someone shoved me hard, and I fell forward, flying face-first into the puddle. My new clothes were now ruined as well. I didn’t know how long I laid in the mud, but I knew it had been Tommy and his large, meaty hands who had knocked me down, By the time I could pick myself up again, he was long gone.

And of course, who gets in trouble? Me. I got called to the Principal’s office for “skipping class,” but no one ever asked me why I was caked in mud nor why I was limping. I knew they knew my grandpa, and for some reason, it seemed like I was the one being punished for my grandfather going against the town’s status quo.

Because Principal Cowden (no joke) didn’t believe me when I told him that Tommy had bullied me, I was suspended for “telling lies,” “skipping class” and “roughhousing on the playground.”

When Mama came to pick me up, she was furious. Not at me, but at the school for their ignorance. Mama knew I wasn’t one to skip a class or tell a lie, and even though I did lie and tell her that I simply tripped and fell into the mud, I knew… I just knew she could see right through me. The cuts and bruises on my feet told the truth I was not willing to share.

Next thing I knew, Mama pulled me out of school and started home-schooling me. I think she also knew that I didn’t want Grandpa to know about what happened at school, but from Daddy’s apologetic looks the next day, I knew she had told him.

After being home-schooled for the next six years, things had gotten a little bit better, but Grandpa still managed to lose his shoes. Because Mama couldn’t teach me anything past the eighth grade, I had no choice but to go back to public school, but luckily, Mama pulled some strings and was able to enroll me in a different high school outside of town. Sure, I would have to travel farther, but at least I wouldn’t run into Tommy or any of the other kids.

However, soon after I started high school, Grandpa fell one afternoon and shattered his leg.

He didn’t survive the surgery.

…

Surprisingly, despite the name calling, the whole town was at his funeral, and everybody had something interesting to say. But the last person to speak was the one that I remember most. Ole Maybell hobbled up to the front of the church, and to my surprise, she was wearing Grandpa’s shoes. 

I think everyone noticed.

“Mr. Stanley was the kindest man I knew. As you see, I am wearing his boots,” her eyes grew watery, “For many years, he always lent me his shoes to walk home because mine were never good enough for long-distance walking. My family is poor, and we can’t afford much. My son carries me on his back every morning as we both go to work, but because he has to work late, he can’t take me home. Mr. Stanley saw me struggling to walk home many years ago and immediately took off his shoes and socks for me. I tried to reject his offer, but he refused to take no for an answer. I always returned the shoes though… “

“I apologize to anyone who suffered because of Mr. Stanley’s decision to walk home barefoot. When I found out the awful name people were calling him, I tried to convince him to stop, but he refused that too. I hope Mr. Stanley’s family can forgive me for being the reason why they were embarrassed. I also hope that they can now understand why Mr. Stanley never complained, even though his feet were always hurting. I will always remember him for helping me out all these years, and though his feet did truly smell every time he took off his shoes, I’m grateful.”

Everyone was dead silent as she slowly walked back to her seat.

Finally, the greatest mystery had been solved, and no one knew what to say.,,

Later that evening, I was alone in my room when I spotted my shoe collection in my closet. Over the years, I had kept my shoes that didn’t fit my feet anymore just in case I needed to magically fit them over Grandpa’s feet like Cinderella. Not having a purpose to keep them anymore, an idea popped in my mind. Before I knew it, I grabbed the bag, raced out of the house, and bolted towards Ms. Maybell’s cottage. Without explanation at all, I placed the bag just beside her door and knocked loudly before disappearing behind the corner of her home.

The door opened, and I couldn’t help but peer over the side, wanting to see how she would react. Her eyes lit up, and her lips molded into a colorful smile as she picked up the bag and carried it inside. The door closed again, and I was about to leave for home, but I spotted more and more people carrying a few bags of shoes, in which they also delivered to Ms. Maybell’s home. Some dropped them off and ran away, but others knocked on the door and presented their gifts to her. It was almost too overwhelming.

Inhaling a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, I closed my eyes and pictured Grandpa in my mind. I smiled ear to ear, and his warmth filled my heart. Even though he’s no longer with us, I could see him and his influence within the town.

Even after life, he touched all of us in small, impactful ways. 

…

 My grandpa was Smelly Feet Spinelli, and I couldn’t be prouder.