A message from a friend asked if I would soon be at my favorite cidery; he had a gift for me. I told him that I would, and met Wes Homoya at his brother’s cider house. He said to me, “You’re a ‘sock guy’, so I thought you’d like these,” and gave me a pair. Wes claimed that he had mentioned the designers of the socks to me, but I have no memory of that. When I was a suit and tie wearing “businessman,” my socks were serious: primarily black, with the occasional brown and gray. In the early days, none of them had a pattern of any kind, nothing to call attention to the ankles of the person writing contracts. Later, I added some patterns, but once freed of corporate constraints, I became a full-blown “sock guy.” Early in the COVID-19 lockdown, I posted daily pictures of my whimsical collection, sometimes paired with my youngest granddaughter’s sock-clad feet. “The Socks of Covid-19” got a positive reaction on a social networking site. But the socks that Wes gave me are from a collection called “Outdoor Afro,” a name that intrigued me.
In 2009, an African American woman named Rue Mapp, a former Morgan Stanley analyst, was considering a new direction in her life, which ultimately led to her “(combining) everything that she loved – from nature to community to technology – into an organization that would reconnect African Americans to the outdoors.” Mapp, who was often the only black person at … hiking and camping activities, launched Outdoor Afro on a social media site and as a blog. She got a positive response from other African Americans who were also tired of being “the only one” and now has an organization that has 30 trained leaders in cities across the United States and 7,000 active members. In 1970, my new bride and I did something foreign to both of us: we camped across the country in a canvas tent. We traveled more than 2,400 miles from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles, spending six weeks learning how to pitch a tent, start a fire and cook on hot rocks. And in all of those days, we saw not one other African American. We experienced, first-hand, the “only one.”
Another friend recently sent me a gift of Bombas socks, from the new Black Hive Collection. According to a 2017 “CBS This Morning” report, the name “bombas … is derived from bumblebees in Latin,” and the company is invested in the concept of the (not so secret) life of bees. Hence, the Black Hive Collection, a “bold and vibrant celebration of Black excellence created by Black Bombas employees.” In keeping with the vision of the Bombas founders Randy Goldberg and David Heath, who learned that socks are the most requested item at homeless shelters, and who committed to donating one pair of socks to organizations that help those in need for each pair purchased, the items purchased from the Black Hive Collection are matched by an item donated to organizations targeted toward the Black community. The Bombas catchphrase, “Bee Better,” is stitched onto each pair of socks, including the socks that were gifted to me, and investors no longer scoff at the idea that a company cannot be built on the concept of, “you buy a pair, we donate a pair.” Bombas’ advertising touts the fact that over 40 million “socks, shirts and undies” have been donated to organizations all over the world.
Though I am glad to no longer be a “businessman,” I guess I’m again, back to black socks.
cjon3acd@att.net