I observe the constant customer traffic from the comfort of my leather seat in one of the six historic, private booths along the east wall. I rest my bare feet on the matching leather footstool. The familial warmth, emanating from the bustling Rocco's behind the counter, beckons me to stay the afternoon. The comfort of the narrow space and the accompanying smell of leather and shoe polish reaffirm my adoration for this city gem. If I ever moved to a distant state, unable to personally bring my shoes across the threshold, I would mail them. For, here shoes are showered with craftsmanship, soaked in polish, and wrapped in Italian American legacy before returning to their owners.
Bibliography: Nicollette Barsamian, Heather Holland, The Rocco's.