The Shoe Yekke: A Story of Progress in Social Reasoning

Every year, with the coming of ice, snow, and melting that produces the inevitable mud, I undergo a radical transformation from my normally somewhat haphazard, clean-it-when-you-need-it*, housekeeper, into what my family politely calls 'the shoe Yekke.'
*'needing it' applies to impending guests or picture taking

Actually, there are rumors that certain members of the family who remember Seinfeld have another name for this aspect of my existence--the Shoe Nazi. But the 'N' word applied to a family member in a Jewish household is likely to create an unreasonable amount of family conflict, and so I have never been able to confirm said rumors.

In any case, the symptoms of "Shoe Yekkism" include a fanatical interest in getting people to wipe their feet outside and take their shoes off in the entryway, or in the case of exceptionally muddy shoes or boots, having the person take them off outside and leave them by the door. These symptoms, like Seasonal Affect Disorder, tend to appear as daylight hours wane, and persist through local mudtime, with extreme episodes occuring during snowstorms and blizzards, as well as the ensuing melt-off. The syndrome, like other commom disorders of WAM (wife-and-motherhood) are disproportionately seen on the distaff side of a marriage.

In our household, as shoe-yekkism progresses, the other family members become very good at lining up their shoes and boots by the door.

Hmmm. Is that a speck of mud next to the pair on the left? Methinks I ought to hie myself off to a Big Box and procure a shoe tray.





Now, N. has the most difficulty mitigating my Shoe-Yekke episodes, because as an 'Aspie' he does not relate strong emotion coming from me with actions on his part. Whenever he has to face me as I am emitting strong waves of parental disapproval, he looks like a classic example of the "deer-in-the-headlights" phenomenon, complete with the "what did I do?" expression.
Connecting past experience with present action and the prevention of ensuing diatribes is, after all, social reasoning at a very high level.

Another thing you should know is that we do not have a mudroom. In fact the back door provides entrance from an uncovered patio directly into the breakfast nook. This is one of the (very) few design flaws in our house. As a consequence, the covered front porch and ample front entry become the primary defensive perimeter in the war on tracking-in-stuff, which, as research has shown, triggers Shoe Yekke episodes. Therefore, during the winter, the front door becomes the favorite method of entrance and egress for the family. Of course the glacier that develops outside the back door due to a closely related design flaw in which two parts of the pitched metal roof dump melt water directly onto the door mat, also deters use of the back door during this season. Global warming, Schmobal warming! Al Gore should see my glacier!

N. is the only person who uses the back door with any regularity because it leads more directly to his beloved winter wonderland in the meadow, and because he conducting a scientific study of glacier formation on my glacier. It's also fun to slide on!

He has been pretty good about cleaning his shoes and leaving them neatly--all, right, at least they are in pairs--by the back door.
The other day, though, as the birthday weekend blizzard was building momentum, I noticed that his old pair of white skater shoes--the ones with a different colored lace in each shoe--were piled outside the door by the birdbath--it holds the outdoor temperature sensor so it stays there year-round, to the delight of the family Geeks.

So I called out to N. as I passed by his room, "Bring your old skater shoes into the house before they are completely snowed in." And N., entranced with his mating fire-bellied toads, said, "Yes, Mom. Just one second." And I went off to do whatever it was that I was planning to do. (By the way, did you notice that 'Yes, Mom' response? Taekwondo is a wonderful thing).

Later, I happened to be wiping off the table in the breakfast nook and I noticed that the shoes were not yet inside. They were however, stacked next to the grill, just under the "Doomed, I tell you!" icicle hanging down from the eaves. So I called out to N: "You know, we are going to have send the National Guard out after your shoes if you don't get them inside, achshav!

As I was waiting for him in the kitchen, I did notice N.-sized footprints in the snow outside the kitchen door. They were slightly drifted over--it was a blizzard!--but they showed where he had taken the trouble to go outside and move the shoes.

Naturally curious, like the rest of the family, I asked him about that rather than laying into him right away.

He said: "Well, Mom, I went outside to get the shoes but they were still very muddy, even though they were copiously rained on. And when I picked them up, they were dripping quite large drops of slush and mud. And since I know how you value your clean kitchen floor, I decided to put them against the wall outside instead, and bring them in during more favorable weather." (Yes, he really said this. It is a wonderful example of hyperlexia at work. Or is it how he works mom? Only his yetzer* knows for sure).
*yetzer ha-ra: evil inclination

Now I was impressed. He had begun to do what I asked him to do. That is progress. And he noticed the dripping slush and goo. That's pretty normal--he used to spend hours watching the dripping bath faucet. It was cheap entertainment. But what is really impressive is that he thought through the social implications of bringing that dripping goo and slush into my kitchen. He got it that it would not make me happy in this season of Shoe Yekkism, and he even weighed the consequence of that with the consequences of not doing exactly as he was told. And he came to the correct conclusion based on his experience with my seasonally induced descent into selective hysteria.

Every now and then, I get glimpses of success, confirmations that cognitive approaches to social problems do eventually penetrate my son's Aspergers mind. But this is more than that. It is a giant leap in social reasoning! And N. shared his reasoning sequentially and understandably, and so nonchalantly. He has no idea what a leap he just made! And I have no idea how long this has been developing. It's like when we found out that he could read. When I pointed out what he had done, he just gave me that "Duh, mom" look as if he had been doing this for a long while and only now decided to share it with me.

In our daily life of dealing with Aspergers, the social approbation from others, the loss of confidence in our parenting, the melt-downs and now more frequently, the shut-downs, the one-step-forward-two-steps-back quality of therapy, we need moments like this.

It gives both of us the courage to continue down our uncoventional path towards a good life.


It's nice to get an occasional glimpse of the mountaintop.