Let me tell you she’s tough as hobnails

I grew up surrounded by strong women; my sisters and Hank’s; our mothers too; but the strongest is my namesake Aunt Caitlin. A little older than my Mom, Aunt Caitlin apprenticed with my Grandfather, learning the fine art of handcrafted bespoke shoes. She also spent time in London, England studying with the Worshipful Company of Cordwainers and at the University of the Arts London.

Aside from making shoes and boots, Aunt Cait also teaches classes at the Ontario College of Art and Design University and gives lectures on footwear at the Bata Shoe Museum.

She keeps me busy with making Skiving knives, Welting Pliers and other tools of the trade for her and her students.

Following the family tradition is her son, my cousin Phil who's a year younger than me. The one funny thing about Phil is that he's such a city boy. He can prick a finger with an inseaming awl without flinching but a couple of bug bites have him crying for mercy.

It's nice to have someone in the family that's a little bit younger than me to pick on. Things flow downhill, they say. But don't feel too bad for Phil because he manages to give as good as he gets and it's all in good fun.

Even though Mom begged Aunt Cait and Uncle Nick to bring Phil and come up to the farm during the crisis, they insisted that they would be fine to stay in the city.

The city remained civil for the first couple of weeks but as the power blackouts continued food and water started to get scarce. Rioting started in parts of the city so police and the military set curfews. They sectioned off parts of the city to control people's movements and prevent large mobs from forming. 

This meant that it was too late; Aunt Cait, Uncle Nick and Phil were trapped in their sector and not allowed to get out of the city. 

Small bands of looters often managed to out maneuver the authorities and Aunt Cait and Uncle Nick were barricaded in the shoe store where they lived in the apartment above.

One night a band of looters broke through the barricade and ransacked the store in search of food. Uncle Nick was killed in the melee. Skiving knives are scalpel sharp and according to rumours two of the looters did not leave the scene upright.

Despite the near famine that gripped the city, Aunt Cait and cousin Phil didn't starve and there are a pair of chamois over Aunt Cait's workbench that appear to have tattoos. There's no sign that they ever get used for anything.

Before I left for Carnelian I had to finish up an order of tools for Aunt Cait. I also needed to drop off my boots to get resoled and pick up the brand new ghillie brogue shoes I'd had then make for me.

I went into the shop just at closing time and without looking up, cousin Phil said "Sorry, we're just about to close."

In a high pitched voice, I called "Oh, Philomena…"

He jumped up and laughingly replied "Hey, Caitee…"

"I got a sack of hammers here to match your intellect."

"Funny guy. What else have you got there?"

"More work for you," as I presented my boots.

"We don't handle toxic waste here."

"Now who's the funny guy?"

From the back of the shop Aunt Cait called "who's that?"

"It's your niece with his smelly clogs and a bag of rust."

The banter continued like that as Aunt Cait came forward and embraced me in a big bear hug. Phil   locked up the shop for the night and we headed upstairs for a late dinner. I told them about my coming trip to California and the possible new job I was hoping to land like I was being head hunted.