It's about the story not the boots
I was shopping at my local Tractor Supply out in Jersey , looking over some hay for my crops. For some reason the hay keeps the wild mushrooms from spreading, when an older fella struck up a conversation. He noticed my western wear right away(Vintage pan-handle slim shirt). He introduced himself as a retired livestock farmer from Oklahoma, who had transitioned into working as a local vet and got in to the franchise part of the biz. We ended up talking for nearly an 1/2 hour about livestock, Jersey acreage and the New York douchbags who buy up the land. Most importantly we chatted about the timeless art of well-crafted western wear. Feeling an immediate kinship, he completely caught me off guard by inviting me over to his farm/winery for dinner with his wife later that night to continue the conversation over a home-cooked meal. Before we parted ways, he told me to wait right by the counter while he stepped out to his Mini cooper. He returned holding a beautifully preserved pair of vintage Justin's cowboy boots, explaining that they were the ones he wore on his wedding day back in 79. Insisting that a true appreciate-er of quality western style should have them, he handed them over as a gift, free of charge. He was headed to Goodwill to donate them right after tractor supply . I left the store not only with a new pair of boots to add to my wardrobe but also with a new friend and a fancy duck dinner I had that night. Last week, I went to Hobby lobby got the top of the box framed and im giving it to him next week on his wedding anniversary. He said this to me upon parting.. "Husky you may not have 1000 acres of land and the livestock to go with it, but you are a cowboy at heart. You live and breath grit, integrity and the American spirit so stop wearing those bricks on your feet you call square toes!" Today I updated my will and it reads.. Bury me in mr.commacks boots no exceptions. And thats my story about these boots.