But I did it every morning anyway, badly, and three girls went to school with slightly crooked braids put in by a man who loved them, and I have come to believe that is worth more than straight ones.

The boots are the thing the girls fixed on, later, when they finally understood — the holes in my boots against their new sneakers — and I understand why, because it makes a clean picture.

But I want to say plainly that I never once experienced it as a hardship at the time, and it would be a kind of lie to let it be told as one.

A man does not feel deprived giving his children shoes.

He feels, if anything, useful — proud, even, in a way that has nothing to do with martyrdom.

The taped boots did not make me sad.