I’ve been debating for a while if I would actually write any kind of a post about George, my new friend and constant companion, or if I would let him remain largely in the shadows. Today, my question was answered. I need to tell the world (which I really mean to be my few faithful readers) about George.

Essentially, George  is the walking boot that I’ve had on my left foot since September 23. I wish I had a really exciting backstory to give you as to why George and I began this relationship, but the truth of the matter is, I twisted my ankle 5.5 weeks ago at the end of a hike and have some ligament damage of uncertain severity. On October 21, we’ll find out what the next step to recovery might be. Until then, a gimp I will remain. ANYWAY. Back to George.

So George, who also has been known to go by Norge and Gorge (pronounced hore-hay), and I became very close very quickly. No DTR necessary. He came into my life and immediately established the fact that he would take away the pain of walking but replace it with a slight degree of awkwardness….a relatively fair trade. I’m certainly getting more used to him every day and am learning to appreciate his good qualities. For one, he’s tall and thin. He comes up to right below my knee, but he’s thin enough to fit under pants, which makes him much less conspicuous. He’s the equivalent of 8 smartwool socks, which comes in handy on cold days like today. He sounds a bit like a peg-leg, effectively rendering me to be a pirate…especially if I’m coming down the stairs in my apartment. And he makes crunching leaves and acorns on the sidewalk approximately 45% more enjoyable.

Those are all well and good, but why share these things now? (aside from the fact that two lovely 4th year girls encouraged me to do so after RUF tonight) Well, here comes the kicker (I’m trying hard to use as many foot puns as I can. I hope you can appreciate). Today, I met Clarence.

George has been the topic of many-a conversation over the past 2 weeks, both with friends and strangers alike. My foot has been a point of sympathy or confusion for lots of people recently, and I’m almost certain I can attribute about half the smiles I’ve gotten from strangers passing on the sidewalk to the fact that they feel sorry for me. I am okay with this.

Well, as I began my long-ish walk home this afternoon, I noticed one older man in a Virginia sweatshirt that was covered in paint give a few glances as he was walking a few paces away but in the same direction as me. After a few steps, he hollers something about this being a bad time of year to have a boot. In my head, I’m thinking, “when is a good time for a boot?” but I go along with it and agree with him. He asks how I hurt it and what kind of damage there is. He proceeds to tell me how he tore part of his hamstring and a tendon in his knee, was put on bed rest for 5 weeks, but decided to get up and start using it the next day with the help of the prescribed pain killers. Ok, I majored in kinesiology, which means I know just enough about muscles and such to say that he is not a smart man for that.

But we keep chatting, and I learn that he used to play football for the Maryland Terps and had some knee damage during that time too, and he’s generally a very sweet man. Now, he works at the hospital at night and does grounds landscape management during the day. He asked questions about how my foot’s healing, what my job is, and if I’m usually around the corner. THEN, as if we’re old friends, he asks if we can go to lunch soon! I’ll be honest, I verbally said “sure!” while I was thinking “mmmm, probably not.” He insisted on giving me his phone number and told me to invite some friends, and he would treat us somewhere on the corner. and that next week or the week after would be best.

And you know what? I have every intention of doing just that.

If being identified by George means that I can connect with other folks, even on the basis of some kind of injury, I’ll take it. If wearing George is a means of healing AND evangelism (even if it is at times REALLY loud), then yes, by all means, I’ll wear him proudly.

So, world, meet George. George, say hello to your new friends.