To See, or Not to See

Friday, March 10, 2006

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

To See, or Not to See

By J’AMY PACHECO

In the five years that my daughter has been attending “real” school, many notices have come home in her backpack. Field trip announcements, book fair flyers, predator alerts and head lice warnings are among the most memorable.

Last week, I received one that took me by surprise. It seems my daughter had her eyes checked by a school nurse, and might need glasses.

The fact that my fourth grader might need to wear glasses should not come as a surprise. I wear glasses, and so does her father. All of her grandparents, most of her aunts and uncles and a number of cousins have them, too. I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Her father didn’t get his first pair until he was 18. I was about 20 when I got mine, and didn’t even realize I needed them as badly as I apparently did. I still remember driving home from the eye doctor the day I picked up my first pair of glasses and realizing with a start that one could actually see individual leaves on trees.

I was so surprised by this revelation that I pulled my MG Midget over to the side of the road and just sat for a while, gazing at the trees lining the roadway, and all those leaves.

Many spectacles in a variety of shapes and lens thicknesses have come and gone since then. In the beginning, my glasses were simple but surprisingly heavy. They had oversized gold wire frames, and if I’m not mistaken, the lenses were actual glass.

Next, I went through the oversized plastic look that was popular years ago. At the time, I thought I looked pretty good, but in hindsight, I probably looked line an insect with those big ole bug eyes. But plastic lenses were an improvement over glass — they were so much lighter and thinner.

Today, my glasses have plastic lenses and sort of tortoise shellish-wire-like frames. They’re not as strong as they used to be — the last time I had my eyes checked, they’d improved. Go figure.

I actually have two pair; I also have prescription sunglasses that I wear when I’m outdoors. I spend a lot of time switching glasses, and asking, “Do I have my sunglasses on?” I guess switching glasses so much occasionally short-circuits my brain.

My daughter loves to try on my indoor, tortoise shellish glasses. I don’t let her put them on often, and never for more than a few seconds — because I don’t want to ruin her eyesight.

Oh, well.

My daughter, who has an appointment but hasn’t yet seen the eye doctor, has mixed feelings about the possibility of getting glasses. She’s excited, because she likes the idea of getting to put on eyewear without having to get Mom’s approval.

But she’s distressed at having to wear them all of the time.

“I just want bare eyes,” she lamented at one point.

When bare, those eyes are beautiful. They’re quite large, and of a color I can’t describe. At first glance, they’re brown. But if you look closely, you’ll see flecks of green in them. In bright light, they appear the color of honey. I guess you could say they’re sort of tortoise shellish in color. They’re quite striking, and I confess I hate to see them covered up.

To prepare her — us — in the event she does need glasses, I let her try on frames at the mall last weekend. Some of the glasses were downright ugly, but others made her eyes look lovely. I told her she’d be able to choose any frames she wanted — from Disney to Eddie Bauer — as long as they fit her little head.

She’s still not happy about it.

She finally confessed to having some fear over what kids might say. She doesn’t want to have to face being called “four eyes,” and whatever other insulting names kids have developed over the years for those of us with four eyes.

On the bright side, her best friend got the same notice, and has already been to see her eye doctor. Her glasses should be ready in about a week.

With any luck, her pal will put off wearing her own new glasses to school so they can go together. If there’s strength in numbers, going in with a combined eight eyes will surely put the girls at an advantage.

Incidentally, I’ve noticed recently that I need to remove my glasses when reading. It looks like I may be ready for bifocals.

I’m not looking forward to taking that big step, but I’m trying to set a good example. And who knows — maybe I’ll find the trees look even better through six eyes…