Someone in a Facebook group to which I belong wondered about the romantic nature of creatives, and whether we all see the world through a veil of romanticism. So, the comments that followed mentioned rose-colored glasses, among other things, which rang a little bell in the back of my head.
Years ago, just before I got toasted by LASIK, I looked forward to doing something I’d never, ever done before, something so many of my friends had always taken for granted. I wanted to walk into a store and buy cool sunglasses, the kind that make a statement, without a prescription. Unfortunately, things didn’t work out that way. LASIK destroyed my clear vision and with my fluctuating prescriptions, I’ve lost track, over the years, of how many pairs and how much money I’ve spent on glasses for near vision, glasses for intermediate vision, glasses for distance vision — and sunglasses for each.
But I digress. Before I realized just how wrong things had gone, an optometrist I knew offered to let me pick through a file cabinet drawer full of vintage frames to find a couple I liked, totally funky and fun. One pair of red, plastic frames jumped out and grabbed me; a reminder of my goofy ’60s glasses. (Back in the day, I wasn’t interested in making a statement. I had them because that’s what was available.) I opted for red lenses, knowing they sharpen visual acuity and thinking they might help with some of the issues I was having. While they definitely made a statement, they didn’t do much for my vision. Despite not being able to wear them, I’ve kept them, mostly as a conversation starter.
And now for a little haiku accompaniment:
a box of wine. Life, I love
you all is groovy.*
*With apologies to Simon and Garfunkel