Archie Bunker Vignettes

Shoebooty

Archie Bunker Vignettes

(All in the Family Fan Fiction)

By: Kristi N. Zanker

Disclaimer: All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of Bud Yorkin Productions, and Norman Lear/Tandem Productions. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. I, in no way am associated with the owners, creators, or producers of All in the Family. No copyright infringement is intended.

Warning: The following piece consists of mild language, some violence, and adult themes.

Author's Note: Archie Bunker's reminiscences of being called Shoebooty can be heard in the All in the Family eighth season episode, Two's A Crowd.

Shoebooty

February, 1934

“What’s taking you so long?” Sarah Bunker, Archie’s mother, called to him upstairs.

He couldn’t find his other shoe. There was no more time to search for it now. Instead, Archie ran a comb through his brown hair and quickly looked out the window. The weather seemed deceiving, although the sun shone. Thick patches of glistening snow lay on the ground and wind whipped the branches on the tree next to the window, making a clack-clack sound as they hit the house. How am I going to get to school with only one shoe? He thought. Archie, almost entirely dressed for school, trampled downstairs to where his mother was waiting, sitting in a chair next to the cathedral-shaped radio listening to a Kate Smith song.

“Where are your shoes?” she asked, getting up from the chair.

She had on a well-worn gray cotton housedress that Archie thought it was the only piece of clothing she owned. Still wearing it after he went bed and here it was morning.

“One’s lost and the other shoe has a big hole in it,” he replied. The sole to his only pair was sliver thin and after daily usage, a gaping hole now peeked through. Archie could feel everything on the ground when he walked, especially in winter.

“Maybe I can fix it,” she told him.

“You can’t.”

“I can fix anything; bring it here.”

He ran upstairs to get his shoe. Eight-year-old Fred shouted goodbye from the front door. The two hardly walked to school together anymore. His kid brother actually enjoyed school and didn’t like to be late. When Archie came down with the shoe, two of his fingers poked through the hole, while the frayed and well-worn laces hung limp.

“This’ll be the last time I sew this together,” she said, rummaging through her sewing basket, which was next to the chair. After peering at his socks, she said, "I only wish I had time to darn those. But your shoe is more important right now."

All he could do was nod.

The radio now softly played “Please Don’t Talk About Me (When I’m Gone)” by Bert Lown.

“Why can’t you be more careful with your things?” his mother sighed as she placed a oblong piece of cardboard inside the shoe to cover the hole, then threaded a thick piece of white string through the eye of a needle. “You know because your father lost his job, money’s been very tight.”

“I know, Ma, I’m sorry, I’ll try to be careful next time.”

“Just be glad your father isn’t here to see this.”