Yuen: Is there more wiggle room in the ‘shoes-off’ debate?

With so much discord destroying the fabric of our nation today, you might ask why I would care to visit one of the most polarizing issues in our society not once, but twice.

Yet here I am, reinvigorating the shoes-off debate with a pot-stirring ladle the size of Shaquille O’Neal’s sneakers. I’ve long held to the principle that it’s common decency to offer to take your shoes off when entering someone’s home — and if you don’t, you’re rude.

My July 22 column put forth all the reasons the host should feel no guilt about imposing a shoes-off policy: It’s more hygienic and personable, not to mention well within your right to decide the rules as the person opening up your home to others.

Many readers insisted I got it all wrong, perhaps none more than Bob Lazear of Golden Valley, who insisted that I really “stepped in it.”

“It seems a bit ungracious to invite someone to your house and then greet them at the door with a surprise mandatory dress code,” Lazear said in a persuasively written email befitting an attorney, which is his profession.

“I also question the premise that shoe removal is necessarily more sanitary than leaving them on,” he said. “Before you ask 20 people to pad around your home with their shoes off, you might want to consider that foot and sock hygiene may not always meet your highest standards. I had a cousin whose foot odor could curdle milk.”

Another reader, Bruce Imholte of Nisswa, Minn., said he has no problem with taking his shoes off at the host’s request.

“What I do not understand is being asked to take off my shoes and then have a dog or two come running into the house with much more dirt than I have,” he said. “I am polite and do not comment, but sure am confused.”

Imholte’s email did not convert me to Team Shoes On, but it made me rethink my position, which, any columnist will tell you, is the highest compliment one could ever pay someone with whom they disagreed. I thought of all the times I barked at my kids to remove their shoes when they barged in from the backyard, but then allowed my late 120-pound hound to prance all over the carpet and sleep under the covers with me. (I’d always make sure to wipe his muddy paws with a towel when he came through the door, though.)

One reader took issue with my argument that taking one’s shoes off is a Minnesota cultural phenomenon. While often regarded as an east and south Asian custom, it is also widely exercised in Scandinavian countries and other northern European places due to the harsh winter elements. My husband’s family, from northern Minnesota, expected guests to shed their shoes upon entering the home because of the sand, mud and snow clinging to their soles.

“You are way off base about shoes in the house in Minnesota in terms of custom,” said Andrea Kircher. “I am 81 years old and have lived here most of my life. I never heard of taking off shoes upon entering a home until recently. It’s a newfangled idea, Laura, driven by other cultures. I think your Minnesota in-laws may be outliers.”

Even if they are outliers, I have to admit that I took a shine to my husband when we were still dating when he, unprompted, dutifully slipped off his shoes when meeting my parents for the first time. The gesture of offering to remove your shoes as a houseguest will always leave a positive impression on a host who follows the same rules.

Over the summer, Paul Bridgland of Marshall, Minn., had some work done on his air conditioning. The technician had his 4-year-old in tow while working on the AC unit behind Bridgland’s house. Then his son needed to use the bathroom.

“As I escorted him inside, he stopped just inside the back door and kicked his shoes off,” Bridgland said. “When I brought him back to his dad, I complimented him for raising a well-mannered son. He glanced up from his work and replied, ‘He took his shoes off, right?’”

Other readers spoke of their neuropathy or other feet issues that requires them to wear shoes for balance or support, even when they’re indoors.

Look, I’m not a monster. Any guest of mine who must wear shoes out of medical necessity is still welcome in my home. (A doctor’s note is purely optional.)

Finally, I heard a cautionary tale warning of the perils of going shoeless that you might think was manufactured by the shoe lobby. So, I’ll just preface by saying Karen Holtmeier generally agrees with my stance of going shoeless.

A couple of months ago, Holtmeier invited a relatively new friend over to her condo for pie. That friend, Beverly, asked if she should remove her silver loafers. Holtmeier did not give her instructions either way, but responded that it was her custom to do so.

A barefoot Beverly took about two steps beyond Holtmeier’s entryway and said, “Ouch!” Her foot started to bleed. She put a Band-aid on it and the gathering continued. As she finished her pie, she decided to go home while she could still walk.

By the next morning, Bev was in urgent care with a foot infection. She eventually underwent surgery to remove a wood fragment about 2 centimeters long and had to recover while wearing a boot.

“She still has swelling in her foot, and the doctor told her it might take nine months for it to stop,” Holtmeier said this week. “Where the small projectile came from is still a mystery, although it seems to have come from my carpet.”

Bev, Holtmeier says, has been gracious about the incident. Holtmeier has offered to pay her medical bills. They still meet nearly every week for bingo.

No matter where you stand on the shoes-off debate, I hope this goes without saying: Don’t let your firmness get in the way of your friendships.

And watch out for the cousin with the malodorous feet. In extreme circumstances, rules can be bent.