saint pinky of the foot.

Some say she was just a wayward toe on a wayward woman's foot. I would argue Pinky was a martyr for a generation. And a saint... saint of the small and downtrodden. Saint of all of those who have ever gone "wee wee wee all the way home". Saint of balance.

Starshine, my sisters bestie growing up, and intrical part of the "Burton Block Posse" has decided to amputate her superfluous, sixth toe much to my dismay. I am not sure how many hours during the summers I had spent back then taking quick glances on the sly at her flip flopped or sandled foot.

But I knew that I would never be disapointed, and I never was, because each time Starshine turned her head to watch passing car or to yell at her brother not to come so close to her on their speeding skateboardsI would sneak a quick look and that extra pinky toe would always be there.

Staring up at me as if to say ""what are you staring at? I'm right where I'm sposda be!!!"

"Eeeeeww that is so cool." i'd think. Six toes seemed like a genetic advance to me... faster, more agile, better swimmer... but she was always shy about it.

and heres some Brew Crew trivia for all you wiscohosers out there... this is no lie... there was a player named... well here you go

note the number

So I sit with a hole in my heart where a little toe used to be,

and my boots feel a little bit bigger on my feet.