I’m not a fan of elevators.  The motion often makes me queasy.  My imagination traps me inside a box that’s plunging a million feet at the speed of sound toward certain death.  Nearly every elevator I’ve ridden has smelled either of bleach or some mixture of the worst odors produced by human bodies.  If anything could make me love stairs, it’s elevators.

Escalators are open and you can see where they’re taking you.  When they break, you can still climb them.  It’s even possible to use them against the “current” if you’re quick.  When I was a kid, the escalators at the mall were the main attraction.  I would ride them for hours if allowed and pitch a fit when we left them behind.

That’s why I want escalator shoes instead of elevator shoes.

I’m five feet and five inches tall with my regular shoes on.  There.  It’s out there on the web forever. Being ashamed of being short is like being ashamed of going bald or having a big nose or a cackling laugh.  Short is just part of who I am even though if I could be taller I would, just like I would have more hair and laugh without scaring people.

My escalator shoes are more figurative.  I like to think every experience that I can turn positive makes me stronger and figuratively taller, and there’s no limit to how tall I can become.  It’s my damned escalator, and it can defy the laws of physics if I want.  In fact, I’ll make it big enough for everybody else who wants to ride with me.  I hope that includes you.

This is going to be a blog about growth for me.  I hope there will be funny parts.  I hope there will be uplifting parts.  I hope there will be regular, if not long, updates.  I hope people will want to join me for this and future posts.  If you started late, then maybe you caught the downward escalator and rode back to start at the beginning.  Thanks for coming along.

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