This is the week for nostalgia, right? Well, I managed to kick things off with a major jolt to my auld lang syne nerve tonight, as I greased up a pair of high-top Danner hiking boots that I've been wearing a few times a year for nearly 25 years. These guys may not be the oldest item of clothing I own, but they are by far the oldest item I'd ever consider wearing. And on they will go again tomorrow.

These are some heavy footwear. They were built long before today's lightweight materials appeared on the scene. Back then, the price you paid for durability was weight. I gladly pay it to this day. There's nothing wrong with these boots, at least not yet, and so I keep wearing them.

As I rubbed in a half tube of Biwell "impregnation of leather" (I love that phrase) tonight, I couldn't help thinking: Who was I when I first bought these boots at that Danner outlet store in Milwaukie, Ore.? Who was I when I stood on the in-store rock and checked out the fit? Where have these shoes taken me over the years? How am I different now?

I was exactly half the age I am now when I first laced them up. Talented, promising, but still largely unformed. Rebellious, cocky, exuberant, but with so much to learn.

I wish I could say all that talent and promise has been fulfilled, that the restlessness has calmed down, and that I've got so much more learning under my belt. But I'm not sure I can honestly say that.

What I have now that I didn't have then are so many riches and gifts. But I still haven't successfully answered many of the questions that were following me around when the boots were new. And I haven't yet made the contributions that I'm capable of making.

I hope I get another 25 years, either in these boots or out of them. In the time that's left, I need to find some answers, and to give more back.