Many are the theories that embrace the various phenomena known by some under the general rubric of Shoe Tossing. Yet, from the various manifestations of shoefiti to the remarkably collective testimony of the shoe tree, no single explanation has emerged. Is it an act of vandalism, of desecration, or perhaps some more hopeful sign of the human spirit emerging from its own trash heap?

Some, as the writer of the Roadside America article on shoe trees (op. cit.), see shoe tossing as a semi-noble artistic pursuit, starting "with one dreamer, tossing his or her footwear-of-old high into the sky, to catch on an out-of-reach branch. It usually ends there, unseen and neglected by others. But on rare occasions, that first pair of shoes triggers a shoe tossing cascade. Soon, teens are gathering up their old Adidas and Sauconys, families are driving out after church with Dad's Reeboks and grandma's Keds. The shoe tree blooms with polymer beauty. A work of art like this may last for generations, tracing our history by our sneakers . . . as long as the tree doesn't die."

As for me, I prefer the happier, less trodden shoe-tossing sport, known by the Fortunate Few as Shoeshoes.

from Bernie DeKoven, funsmith

Labels: Junk, playfulness