“You see, they’re tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

“This is Mr. Carraway,” I said.
“Oh!”  He sounded relieved.  “This is Klipspringer.”
I was relieved too, for that seemed to promise another friend at Gatsby’s grave.  I didn’t want it to be in the papers and draw a sight-seeing crowd, so I’d been calling up a few people myself.  They were hard to find.
“The funeral’s tomorrow,” I said.  “Three o’clock, here at the house.  I wish you’d tell anybody who’d be interested.”
“Oh, I will,” be broke out hastily.  “Of course I’m not likely to see anybody, but if I do.”
His tone made me suspicious.
“Of course you’ll be there yourself.”
“Well, I’ll certainly try.  What I called up about is—“
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted.  “How about saying you’ll come?”
“Well, the fact is—the truth of the matter is that I’m staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with them tomorrow.  In fact, there’s a sort of picnic or something.  Of course I’ll do my very best to get away.”
“I ejaculated an unrestrained “Huh!” and he must have heard me, for he went on nervously:
“What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there.  I wonder if it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on.  You see, they’re tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them.  My address is care of B.F.—“
I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the receiver.

This scene from The Great Gatsby seemed appropriate for St. Patrick’s Day, maybe because it was written by a man named Fitzgerald or maybe because of the thematic green light throughout the novel.  Ewing Klipspringer was Gatsby’s house guest, piano player and hanger-on when times were good, but abandons Gatsby in death.  Nick Carraway is desperately trying to gather friends and acquaintances for Gatsby’s funeral and assumes Klipspringer is calling to determine the funeral arrangements.  Klipspringer, instead, is calling to ask about his tennis shoes.  By refusing to commit to attend the funeral, Klipspringer makes clear that he values the tennis shoes over friendship, and feels no debt of gratitude to Gatsby for Gatsby’s generosity in allowing him to live at the mansion and attend his parties. 

In re-reading this text from the The Great Gatsby, a novel which I have read many times before, I am again struck by the way Fitzgerald is able to invest each interaction with such meaning to expose the character’s ugly but human flaws in a way that we can guiltily understand.  If you haven’t read the novel , or haven’t read it lately, here is a link to Amazon where you can purchase it. And while this post is rather dark for jubilant St. Patrick’s Day, you will find a collection of vintage-inspired tennis shoes and a Pot o’ Gold of of gift ideas in the Pro Shop.