There are mornings when I begin to write the daily missive that I am lost for words.
Not really; I always have words. And it’s probably been one of my countless downfalls.
I cannot remember a report card that didn’t mention that I tend to be disruptive, socializing too much during the learning hours. I worked hard to whisper, but voices carry.
What I was going to say is that if I am without a theme for morning scribblings, I review photos I’ve taken with my phone, recalling what I had been up to based on the things that interested me enough to snap an image.
That brought me to this. It’s time for new eyeglasses.
Those depicted here, near my mug with evident drips of dried black nectar, belong to Jeff, my accidental electrician and a former cop. I noted his new look whilst he sat across from me at our weekly “Breakfast for Schmucks.”
He finally stepped up from mid-70s aviators to a thinner, more fashionable, black plastic Ray-Ban frame.
What he had been wearing looked like it belonged on Robert Blake, the actor, maybe from the movie “Electraglide in Blue,” but maybe not.
Photo of Blake on his steed, provided below. I would quote him, using terminology like “You can take that to the bank,” from his other cop show, “Beretta,” but I won’t.
In that program, he had a pet cockatoo, but Jeff doesn’t; he has a cat. So the two of them are not similar at all. I mean, other than Jeff thinks his cat can talk like Beretta’s cock-a-too, but that’s a problem for his mental health provider. We are not fixing that in a daily missive.
I digress.
I liked Jeff’s new eyeglasses. The SID (sight improvement devices) harkened back in the lineage of the classic Wayfarer, but were more subtly styled. That’s what I shoot for each day, being subtly styled, but I cannot quite pull it off.
I asked if he would mind if I took a look, and he trusted me enough not to fingerprint his new lenses and passed them to me. I snapped a photo of the inscription on the bow, hoping that it was the right number to show my eyecare provider, Dr. John Hersey.
The good doctor doesn’t read my stuff, so he will never know that I’ve given him a free endorsement. But he’d better have a pair of these in stock when I start rubbing my fingers on all the lenses in the display cases.
You see, I am a big fan of Ray-Bans. For some reason, they hold up to the countless on and offs I put them through.
The Wayfarer family of frames is my standard for both my regular peeping glasses and my sunshades. Same frames, different colors, easy to keep track of, and they hold up to much abuse.
Sure, I look like an aging Buddy Holly wannabe, but I don’t much care. No one tries to steal them; I like that.
In this life, you run what you brung. Oh, I could lose a few more pounds, add a daily regimen of hair styling gel, grow a beard, get full-sleeve tattoos to mistakenly infer I could have been some kind of badass, or become suddenly concerned about the thinning nature of my top-fuzz, and maybe get a new flannel shirt, but it’s not gonna change my inner workings.
These are my next eyeglasses. Probably. That’s where I am at today
My wish for our Friday is that we all may come to a place of acceptance for our appearance and personality. God made you into the creature you are, and he makes no mistakes. It doesn’t matter anymore that your teachers thought you talked too much. Here you are in all your glory; embrace it.
If you like certain eyeglasses, get them. If no one else likes them, wear them in spite of that. Walk proudly, even if you are still wearing Robert Blake’s aviators with electrical tape holding on the bows. It matters not.
And if you talk too much in class, sit next to me; I’ve done all right, and I never dated a girl named Peggy Sue.
Have a great Friday.
From the Jagged Edge of America, this ramble has been brought to you by— TC