How I See Things...

I never read street signs when I first got my drivers license - I always knew where I was going. I didn't realize I couldn't see until after I got married and moved to Long Island. It wasn't just the challenge of unfamiliar streets, I couldn't read any street signs, either.

I got my first pair of glasses in 1977. I will always remember the night I found out that the Verranzano Bridge was not illuminated by one continuous light; but by hundreds, more likely thousands of individual lights. Sadly, there were other signs I wasn't seeing clearly but it wasn't anything a pair glasses could have corrected anyway.

I have had a number of pairs of glasses since then. Every once in a while I wonder where they are. Sometimes I open the top drawer of my dresser or desk and expect one of the many “misplaced” pairs to magically re-appear.

One pair never disappeared and probably won’t sin I don’t wear them out of the house. Anything closer then 10 feet is just blurry, but they're perfect for watching a late movie on TV. If I doze off with them on they never break and no one would ever steal them, either.

They are a pair frames from the 1980’s. Large, Ralph Lauren tortoiseshell frames that make me look like a cross between Sally Jesse Raphael or Elton John trying to look preppy. I got them after my third daughter was born, before I even thought about graduate school. I guess was in my “Do I want to be a middle aged talk show host or a rock star?” phase.

Details distract me. But if I can’t see it, it doesn't bother me, so I spend a good amount of time and energy managing and organizing the distracters. Sometimes it is hard for me to think clearly just because ignoring distractions in close proximity takes too much effort. Like the condensation between the panes of glass on the balcony door,for example. Trying to ignore that detail was harder - more painful even, than just creating a window treatment in the spur-of-the-moment.

“Just relax, my husband says.

“ That’s what I am doing” I say as I bring one empty coffee mug to the kitchen; straighten a lampshade; and catch a dust bunny under the server with my double duty dust magnet sock…

Anyway, wanting to be a rock star is not silly. It's basic. That simple need to want to be seen and heard is something we all we want, isn't it it?. The talk show host is equally satisfying. Friend of talk show works too. Oprah and Ellen. Frequent guests on their shows. Sitting comfortably- legs crossed, arm relaxed on the chair rest- chatting. Ha, ha ha, we chuckle knowingly with each other.

They share. They tweet. We follow. We are counted. We belong. We are the same!

Exactly the same, except for the personal assistant and those other people that arrange things and tidy up. Wait a minute, I have my Elton John glasses.

There. Everything looks perfect. Want to watch a movie, honey?

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