When I was in 7th grade, a bunch of my classmates and I walked to visit our 6th grade teacher, Mr. Peca, at his home near the airport outside Binghamton, NY. The trip was nearly ten miles (16 km) each way. By the time I got home, my shoes were ruined because my heel was worn down at a 30 degree angle.
I was 15 or 16 when I got mild frostbite on my feet while caroling. By mild, I mean Continue reading “Bad feet”