White sneakers are not allowed

I have forbidden my father from owning a pair of white sneakers.

As your parents get older, you will probably beg them not to mow the lawn so they don't throw out their back or hip or whatever. You will probably ask your parents not to go up into the attic to pull down Christmas decorations without one of the adult kids around. You will probably put safety locks on all the cabinets so they don't get into the cleaners without your consent.

Not me.

My biggest concern is seeing my dad sport a pair of those clunky, white geriatric sneakers.

I don't care if he climbs up on the roof to change one shingle without the help of a ladder, rope or another person.

As long as he's not sporting those marshmallow-like white sneakers, I'm fine with whatever he does.

I told him one day that if I caught him in a pair of those horrendous white sneakers, I would not take him to his doctors appointments when he got older.

Thus far, he's listened to me. He has told many people about my veiled threats, and he has even purchased the most colorful sneakers to counter my disdain.

Obviously, I was joking. I mean, what kind of child would refuse to take their elderly father to the doctor because of a pair of white sneakers.

Oh, wait.


I would refuse to take my father to the doctor because of a pair of white sneakers.

I wish I were sorry, but I'm not. How could I be? Whenever an elderly person scuttles by on a grocery store scooter, the first thing I pay attention to is the fashion on their feet, and you know what?

They are always white sneakers.

Every. Damn. Time.

I asked my dad to text me a pair of
his cool sneakers. He positioned them on the
footstool like this for me. 
And not only are they white, they are Polident white. There are no visible scuffs. There is no wear-and-tear. They can chew through whatever the street throws at them without getting soiled.

Those kicks be pristine!

In order to keep them so white, they must take a Magic Eraser to those puppies every night while watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy.

White sneakers. You know what I'm talking about.

Elderly folk love to shuffle around in those pristine, white New Balances that cost $59.99 per pair. And you know they've got four others where that came from. They probably rotate through their collection.

It must be part of some senior citizen checklist:

"Enroll in Medicare. Check."

"Join AARP. Check."

"Fill my fridge with prune juice. Check."

"Buy all the hemorrhoid cream. Check."

"Purchase my legit white sneakers. Aaaaand check."

To be even more ridiculous with my fascination of the elderly and white sneakers, I even Googled it because, well, why not. The first two links solidify my concern:

You know exactly what I'm talking about. The soles are about three inches thick, and the shoelaces are as thick as Japanese pan noodles. Those shoes look more difficult to walk in than some of the amazing and colorful sneakers the shoe manufacturers offer.

A three-inch sole? What are you trying to do? Relive your Disco days in comfort?

"Hey old lady, why you gotta be like that?"

No wonder old people carry canes with them. It's not because they can't walk without them, they totally can. They need canes to balance themselves as they careen across Meijer like some Thanksgiving Day Parade float.

Falling from a three-inch white sneaker sole is death.

Or a broken hip.

Pay attention to those laughable white shoes and then compare them to the most colorful sneakers you can find. Colorful sneakers are still comfortable, but they're slimmer. They're aerodynamic. They show up in a dark Walmart parking lot. Their soles are only a half-inch. They use modern technology to be comfortable.

Anything good for an Olympic athlete should be good for the elderly, right?

Here are two examples of colorful Asics and Nikes. Please, do yourself a favor and make sure your sneakers are vibrant. 

Plus, they look good. Just because people hit senior citizen discount status at the local greasy spoon doesn't mean fashion shoe fashion should also get a discount.

With all this said, I'm doing my dad a favor. Those indelible shoes will propel him forward in style.

He'll be the cool old man with the jammin' kicks everyone talks about.