Raccoon Toons

Growing up my mother made these crafty Christmas stockings for everyone in the family.Each one was made of felt and appeared as a large sock with a shoe at the bottom made to take on the character and persona of the person whose stocking it was. My dad’s stocking had a shoe with laces and looked like a real shoe he might wear. My sister’s had a big frilly pink sock with the image of a black Mary Jane shoe which she not only wore, but she also owned a pair for some of her dolls. My mother’s stocking, for some absurd and inexplicable reason, was a ballerina’s dance shoe and made absolutely no sense and continues to baffle me to this day.

My brother and I of course, had stockings that looked like big white socks with stripes that were popular during a certain decade (and by “a certain decade” I really mean “the only decade worth mentioning”). The shoes on our stockings were blue, and were meant to appear as those shoes that were specifically designed to make you run faster than ever before, while wasting less time fiddling with shoes laces. I speak of course of the Velcro wonders themselves, “Zips.” With their flashy ad campaigns, you knew for certain that Velcro shoes weren’t just for people over 80 anymore.

This was all fine and wonderful until one day I encountered a shoe that would forever change my life. A shoe whose wonder, tradition, and glory are cherished by millions all across our great nation. Iconic in its appearance, wildly famous on screen, familiar and loyal to its great history. The shoe needs no introduction. It is the Chuck Taylor Converse All-Star.

This love affair with the All-Star first began when I discovered that the coolest band I know, The California Raisins all wore various hues of the recognizable shoe. If it was good enough for 4 rockin’ raisins from Fresno, it was good enough for me. And so my mother, who thought the shoes were cool when SHE was a kid, gladly purchased me a pair of bright red Chucks.

My realization of just how cool these shoes were only grew as time revealed that all of the coolest cartoons and movie characters wore the very same:

Mickey Mouse wears All-Stars.

TJ Detweiler rules the 4th grade, and does so in red Chuck Taylors.

Marty McFly wore his All-Stars back in 1955.

Doug Funnie had a whole cartoon episode about his Chucks.

Harry Potter fights evil wizards while wearing Converse All-Stars.

Will Smith wears a classy pair of leather ones. Which, of course, I own as well.

Shawn Spencer knows that you know he isn’t telling the truth, in All-Stars.

Chuck, also wears Chucks.

And of course as seen in all my Raccoon Toons cartoons and comics, all my own cartoon creations wear the very same.

The list goes on and on and on, but basically it comes down to this: Cool people wear these shoes. I wanted to be cool. So I own these shoes. Lots and lots of these shoes.

This presented a new dilemma. These shoes were quickly becoming my identity, and yet my Christmas stocking did not bear witness of this. This was an atrocity! So I did the only thing left I could do. I cut out a piece of paper, colored it red, drew the stitching and the white ankle patch, and with the liberal use of Scotch tape, fastened it over my stocking.

Success! My Christmas stocking now identified with my very sole! (Get it? Sole??)

My mother, while slightly perturbed that I covered up the countless hours spend making me the stocking in the first place, admitted that it was far better suited to me in this fashion. And so it remains to this day—the manifestation of my love for a shoe.