One frigid evening in the dead of winter of 1970, my dad was tromping around from door to door. Why? He was selling peanuts to raise money for the Kinsmen. (Kinsmen is a men's community service club.) But “frigid” was an understatement. Winter in the Canadian prairies is cold by anyone's standards. Needless to say, underdressing worsens matters.
When Dad knocked on the door of Abe and Elsie Suderman's home, Mr. Suderman greeted him. Being an inquisitive man with a whimsical way of being, Abe noticed my dad's low cut dress shoes, soaked by the snow that stumbled in. So, he asked, "Is that the shoes you're walking around in?"