JEEPERS CREEPERS MY OUT-OF-FOCUS PEEPERS

For much of my 72 years, I’ve existed in a world that is permanently set to ‘soft focus’. Oh how often I’ve dreamed of what it would be like to experience true visual clarity.

Picture-perfect eyefuls sound heavenly.

You 20/20 folks have no idea how nice it would be to wake up and not have to feel one’s way to the toaster.

THE third grade MIRACLE

It was an optically blurry chalkboard (the alleged fallout of a particularly nasty bout of chicken pox… or was it measles?) that called for my first pair of eyeglasses. And it was with great anticipation that I slipped on those baby blue, cat-eyed ‘peeper helpers’.

Back in my classroom I blinked with undeniable amazement. My eyes were no longer squinting to make out the blurry lettering. I somehow managed to withhold my desire to break out into a hallelujah dance routine, as the printed letters, no longer hazy or oft-appearing cryptic, were now flawless specimens of chalking expertise.

It was quite miraculous.

But it was also when I discovered that the “friend” twisting around in her seat to launch many a smile my way had actually been sticking her tongue out at me.

THE “L” TRAIN TRAUMA

It happened when riding the “L” home from an overnight visit with a friend who lived on the Northside. Although not wearing my glasses, I was repeatedly distracted by something moving about in my peripheral vision.

My curiosity was piqued and so I donned my ‘helpers’ and took a gander. With my glasses positioned on my nose, I lifted my head to check out what the heck was going on. Locking eyes with a gentleman seated kitty-corner from me, I politely returned his broad, beaming smile.

As my eyes traveled down toward the source of that ‘moving about’, it took a moment for it to register and the horrifying realization of why he was beaming.

I hadn’t just looked – I had literally put my glasses ON to take a closer look. 

OH. MY. GOD.

Was there a way I could take back the glance and the smile and exit the freakin’ “L” immediately?! Thankfully he got off (no pun intended) the train and I returned home, in shock… but safe and sound.

Sometimes the world is better left out of focus.

HIGH SCHOOL VANITY

As my eyesight worsened…my vanity increased, as in that old Dorothy Parker adage that, “boys seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses”. So, I walked the halls of my high school in a blur – whipping my glasses on the second I hit my desk and stowing them away at the sound of the passing bell.

I was quite possibly known as the friendliest student to ever roam those halls since I waved to anyone appearing to be gesturing in my direction. And I became quite adept at recognizing physicality or committing to memory wardrobe selections of the day to recognize when one of my actual friends entered the picture.

Hmmm…

… could that explain my lack of ability to recognize most of the people at my reunion? Or I was simply dumbfounded by all those “old” people who kept insisting they were my classmates?

PROFESSIONAL PERILS

As a professional dancer, I was used to moving in a fuzzy world – as it was impossible to dance with spectacles resting on my nose. However, after one literal plunge into the orchestra pit and several near-misses where my fellow dancers had to yank me back from the abyss of the stage edge, my soft-focus lifestyle had graduated from a nuisance … to more like … a major liability. I was eager to try contact lenses to avoid any further damage.

When onstage, I was always led to believe there was an audience out there – I was told people had bought tickets! But between my hazy peepers and blinding stage lights… I wasn’t so sure.

The first time I stepped on stage, with those lenses firmly in place, I saw people. Lots of people. And they were looking right at me. 

It was both miraculous and downright alarming.

ThE MIDNIGHT ECLIPSE

It was time for something to be done to my aging, been around, not-as-young-as-they-once-were eyeballs. So, I finally had my right eye’s cataract removed and finished off with a lens that had me humming I Can See Clearly Now all the way home.

To say it was miraculous is an understatement. I was reading signs ACROSS THE ROOM with the enthusiasm of that third grader back at the chalkboard.

Taped up with a mesh metal patch, I was a swashbuckling, euphoric, eagle-eyed customer. That night, snuggling in with my “new” eye and patch affixed, I slept soundly… until I didn’t.

Waking in the middle of the night, I opened my eyes expecting to see. I mean, optically speaking, considering that a few hours earlier the opposite side of the room was crystal clear… all that was distinguishable at that moment was… literally nothing.

I am not talking short-sighted, near-sighted, nor half-sighted. Nope. As I strained to peek out my right eye, there was only heavy, absolute blackness. I lay there in the dark, with my heart hammering.

Did I scream? Did I wake my husband? Did I jump out of bed?

Well, I’ll tell you what I did… I yo-yoed between thinking I could blink it away or to sleep it off, while conjuring up mages of what would be happening in the ER and even imagining what it might feel like dancing with one eye.

Finally working up the courage to sit up, I was able to glimpse a tiny spot of light coming from my TV’s cable box, which propelled me to stand up and make my way to the bathroom. That’s when I looked up and into the mirror, debunking the whole scenario.

In my middle-of-the-night stupor, I had completely forgotten I was looking through a metal patch – STILL taped firmly over my right eye.

IN CONCLUSION

Looking back over seven decades, I’ve realized that vision is a fickle thing. Sometimes we see too little, sometimes we see too much, and sometimes we choose not to see at all.

But as I sit here now, clearly reading the closed captioning on my TV from across the room just because I can, I’ve decided that ‘peeper helpers’, in all their forms, are the greatest gift of all.

I no longer need to wonder “where did I put my glasses NOW?” … that is until I get some readers. And if I let slip from memory where I’ve plunked those down, I’ll be back in deep doo-doo the second I need to tackle some fine print.

NEXT UP

The Sequel… starring my left eyeball.

Are you a ‘peeper helper’ wearer too? Or newly granted with 20/20 optics? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments!