An Open Letter to Keen

Dear Makers of the Shoe We Affectionately Call Keen,

(Oh, wait – everyone calls these shoes Keen.  My bad.)

I have long loved your shoes.

Their durability.

Their versatility.

Their wearability.

(Did I just make up that word?)

The first summer that we discovered these walking wonders we purchased a pair for my husband, a pair for me and a pair for our oldest daughter.

The next summer we made the leap to the smaller feet in our home.

(Who could resist the fun colors, the lack of zippers, the protected toe, the all-weather-ness?)

This summer the sizes that could be passed down to younger siblings were.

One pair was handed off to Colton until Piper’s feet grow to fit them.

Which left one pair of size-London feet Keen-less.

We were on our family adventure to Gatlinburg this spring.

And as we explored the Gatlinburg Outpost we saw a new pair of Tevas for sale beside the Keen display.

The Keens were not on sale.

The Tevas were reduced to $15.

We have six kids.

All with feet.

Our wallets caved in to the pressure before we did.

We purchased the Tevas.

Now, here we are – three months later.

And I would like you to see a little something.

Let’s call it Exhibit A.

Three months.

One wearer.

Practically worn out.

And now, let’s move on to what I like to call Exhibit B.

Two years.

Two wearers.

Practically like new.

Lesson learned.

Next time – skip the sale and buy the Keens.

By the way,

oh-kind-and-gracious-makers-of-our-family’s-favorite-shoes,

if you’re ever looking for a spokesfamily,

I think you know where to find us.