What is it about purple socks? I began wearing purple-colored socks and only that color, at least 10 years ago. I first came across them at the Columbus Farmers’ Market in New Jersey. They have a huge flea market outside covering acres of new and used items on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. The Sox Lady there makes her own socks and brings them to the market each week. I bought a dozen pair, all the same; all from the same dye lot. No longer would I have to go searching for a mate. Just reach into the pile and pull out two socks. Voila`. A matched set.
I have no idea where the idea of wearing purple socks came from or why I chose that color and not pink, orange, or my favorite color, green. If you know, please let me know.
A few years ago I went to our local radio station, WARR 1520 AM to do an interview with Sherman Johnson. As I waited my turn in the foyer, a gal walked in…..wearing purple socks. She glanced down at my feet and smiling, said, “Hi, I’m Sharon.”
I liked her instantly. Was it the shared love of purple socks? Did it mean more than two people liking the same thing? We chatted casually, half listening to Mr. Johnson on the air. We met again briefly, a year or two later, at a Warren Artists’ Market (WAM) poetry slam in the Warren County Memorial Library. Her teenage son Noah was reciting that night. He sounded like a natural, words rolling off his tongue without effort. At least it seemed to me to be without effort.
Another few months passed before our next meeting at the Senior Center where I had arrived a bit late. I say a bit late because Sharon had invited me on that first meeting, to come to the Center and give a workshop on writing. Stuff kept cropping up, getting in the way until the invitation faded in my mind. Now I was there to team-teach writing, poetry mixed with memoir.
I realize that when a path is laid out, I may drift away from it, but I will get back on it because the path is still there, waiting.
And I was delighted to see Sharon was still wearing purple socks, as I was, too.