Simple act of shining shoes can evoke a sense of humility

For me, flying first-class is not all about boarding the plane before everyone else or even the wider seats.

It is getting a shoeshine. If the timing is right, the flight is not too early, and I'm not too late, I get my shoes shined. There is something about sitting in the regal chair and having someone smear polish, buff and shine your shoes. It is the ultimate luxury. When I get to my destination there is no limo waiting, there is not a chauffer holding a sign with my name, and I have to find and haul my own luggage. But with the clean sparkling look to the feet it is upper crust all the way.

Growing up, every Saturday night my brother and I were assigned to polish our shoes in anticipation of the Sabbath. We had an open carport and the storage room was outside. Our storage room contained the washing machine, a messy workbench and a wooden shelf stuffed with everything we never used, hence the title, storage room. Attached to the shelf was a metal holder for shoes to make the spiffing-up easier. Even with it, the task wasn't fun.

I didn't like the dark; the shelf had spiders and who knows what else; and cleaning the shoes made the hands messy. It was a chore. So maybe that's why today it is great to have someone else do the job.

There is something about shoes that goes beyond foot covers. They imply stature and alter stature. They are the finishing touches to a look or dictate a mood. There must also be some inner psychic that is being accessed. Cinderella became a princess when she went from bare feet to a good-looking pair of glass slippers. Sigmund Freud had something to say about shoes and their fetish, but so did Imelda Marcos. The wife of the deposed Philippine dictator was synonymous with thoughtless extravagance. While her fellow countrymen and women went barefoot, she had 2,700 pairs of shoes stored in her palaces.

While owning too many shoes portrays the epitome of arrogance, shining the shoes of another is a prime symbol of humility. Anciently, in a time without modern conveniences of available water, in a land of dust, and in a setting of travel on foot, having clean feet would be the ultimate first class. The practice was common from the days of Abraham and Genesis. Cleaning the extremities of a guest was the definitive welcome. In the Christian tradition the account of the Greatest lowering himself to clean the feet of his apostles has become a ritual that is still practiced among several religions.