'Tis Not the Season

I realized that I've not yet given a very clear picture of my town. I've wandered far from the topic, around, and above. Let's face it, my town right now is not gorgeous. To call it "pretty" would be flattering. The skies are almost always gray and the weather is in that awkward pubescent state between cold and warm. The town is on the verge. On the verge of... The next few months will tell.

Of course, the town center is as it always was - beautiful. The architecture belies the course of the weather; constant and colorful, the center of the town remains the same. The main square is flanked by many old buildings of pastel colors. Quite a few have paintings, sculptures, or carvings worked into their facades. Whenever I sit on a bench beside the fountain at the center of the square, I feel like I'm sitting on a stage and watching as a play unfolds around me. Especially when I glance up at the statue standing proudly on a pedestal inside the fountain. He's a man with a flat face; proud, stoic, he glances off into the distance. His left hand rests on his belt and, in his right hand, he holds a staff. A staff topped by a shoe. A shoe!?

Back in the day, when everyone was taking a bite out of the Middle East as if it were the world's most delicious cake, the founder of my town found himself in a tough spot. On the battle field, the flagman was killed and the troops were loosing heart and the battle. In a fit of stubbornness and determination (and eccentricity), the founder of Ried took off his shoe and rammed it onto the end of his staff and waved it like a flag. This bizarre act inspired and invigorated the troops, who ran forth and vanquished the enemy. Huzzah! The King of the area known today as Austria granted the gentleman a huge chunk of land and titles in gratitude. Thus, Ried was born.

I like him. He was probably a cutthroat bastard who extorted his peasants and hanged women as witches but, in my mind, he will always be "that guy" who wildly rolled his eyes, used his shoe as a flag, and bellowed his determination incoherently at the enemy. It reminds me that sometimes, in the course of certain events, even a shoe can turn the course of battle.