I remember in grade school I was unable to see the chalkboard from the back row. One of my compassionate teachers, I can't recall who, had me move to the front row where, to my wonder and relief a whole new world opened up. I felt exposed and embarrassed sitting up front, and I knew my large ears were often self-consciously red. Being in the front row also made me an easy target for the teacher to call on, and for spit balls, but I was glad to be able to see the cool roll down maps that hung up front like giant colorful window shades.
My father brought me to the optician where I was fitted with heavy rimmed glasses, and a whole new world opened up. I could see trees in the distance for the first time. I saw stars pasted against the night sky. I could finally see when a ball was thrown my way instead of waiting until it hit me in the head.
Nearsightedness is an affliction you wouldn't wish on your best enemy. For one thing you couldn't very well play basket ball with glasses on. The way guys throw elbows around in a game the glasses ended up on the court floor all bent and damaged. And there's no way to play without them. Besides I wasn't any good at the game to start with, probably because I never had a chance to learn. Seeing I wore glasses and all.
Girls secretly recoil at guys wearing glasses. At least most girls do, repelled by a glass-wearing-guy as if the specs were a sign of a secret disorder. Glasses, especially those designed in the 1950's and '60's were definitely uncool, clunky looking and sometimes downright ugly. My parents always chose all three criteria when buying glasses for me. In later years I tried contact lenses for a while and noticed a different reaction from women when I would meet them compared to when I wore spectacles. I'm just grateful my wife thinks I look better with them than without.
Being nearsighted physically evolved for much of my life into a kind of nearsightedness existentially. I often felt like a chubby, bleached, big-breasted, tatted white chick with a dog named Rocco, even though I was skinny and decidedly male. I also didn't have a tattoo. I could only see what was right in front of me, the thing that demanded my energies RIGHT NOW!, unable, or unwilling, perhaps, to see the future. It was enough at times just to get through a day. To find enough to eat. To pay whatever bills needed paying. To find work.
Where most guys find a career out of High School, go to college, build the American Dream, my nearsighted life meandered blindly through over thirty different jobs until I finally settled on one I can do reasonably well that pays decent but is hollow for life satisfaction. I blame my nearsightedness on not letting me be what I really wanted to be: an Air Force pilot. Or an astronaut.
I often wondered why God, if there is at least one, would afflict His kids with such things as cancer and mental retardation and nearsightedness. Why He would set them at the starting line so far back in the pack. Now I've come to terms with my blindness's. Glasses are a crutch to get through life with some kind of clarity. So is having lived.
Related articles
- Nearsighted Vision Linked to Genetic Mutations Regulating Copper in Eyes (medicaldaily.com)
- Outdoor recess time can reduce the risk of nearsightedness in children (eurekalert.org)
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