Tribute to Old Hanz
In the town of Grotzinger there was only one shoemaker left
Old Hanz was known as H to those with long memories of life here.
We rarely ordered custom shoes and boots these days
But we still stopped by for his stories when he was working
what is that? I asked him once upon a time when I was eight.
He explained industrial pliers, cutters, and the cobbler tool kit
Interspersing hilarious stories as he pounded, stretched and sewed
He was happily surrounded by wooden soles and leather heels
It smells in there, I told my Daddy. He nodded because he remembered.
That’s a combination of tobacco, leather, smoke, and H himself.
H had made all of Daddy’s shoes when he was a child.
Made his wedding shoes too. Daddy never wore boots
I made my way to the workshop this morning.
Wondered if it was too early, but H was there.
He was not open yet, but he nodded me in through the window.
His stories were as outrageous and clever as usual; I was home.
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