And John entered the first bar he came to on the freeway, not far from Carson City. Fredda kept on bringing him the beers he ordered, until finally she said, Isn’t it a little early to be drinking like this? At which he burst into tears, confessing that he’d just left his wife halfway out along the highway, under a tree, without her shoes. Fredda, no stranger to drunken tragedies, encouraged him to go back. If this is the start you guys are making, what’s gonna become of you? And back John went, taking with him a bottle of water and something to eat. When he arrived she was half asleep. He woke her, she seemed weak, and he asked her to forgive him and gave her the food and water. She promised never to go on the slot machines again, and he promised never to abandon her. Seeing as you haven’t got any shoes on, he said, I shouldn’t, either. He took his off and threw them up into the tree. The happiness of Linda and John’s relationship was rooted in certain simple but durable rituals: two years later they came back, having now had their first son and wanting to throw his first pair of boots into the tree. As they approached they saw the multitude of shoes. And were both speechless.