I’m not sure how he managed it, but Norman was constantly losing a shoe at the bar. We’d be sitting there, enjoying our beverages, and he’d say “Whoops, my shoe.” Or I’d just happen to look down and notice that one of them was off.

I’d bend down and help him get it back on.

Putting a shoe back on always involved a bit of struggle, as he held his foot slightly cockeyed, making it far more difficult than it seemingly should have been. I don’t think this was intentional, but after the third or fourth time putting them back on during an outing, I started to wonder…

On one occasion, he must have lost one or both of his shoes at least 15 times—which just seems excessive for a single outing, even if you’re doing it on purpose.

When it was time to get new shoes, I made sure that we got some slip-ons to make it easier to put them back on.

Anyway, “Dad lost another shoe” became a bit of a joke.