I was told as a child that I was myopic. The optician said he thought myopic girls were alluring because their unfocused eyes looked mystical. Those were the days when opticians could say such drivel and no one thought to question it. So basically I was nearsighted, which was understandable to my mother who swore I became so from reading by flashlight when I was supposed to be sleeping. I did NOT read by flashlight when I was supposed to be sleeping. I read by a light which was kept on in my closet. It was meant to keep our clothes drier in a muggy climate. Didn’t do much to keep our clothes from mildewing, but it worked great as a reading lamp. Well, maybe not great, exactly, but I finished many a book with it.
I did my best to hide this affliction. What cowboy wears glasses? What superhero? This was in the days before Harry Potter. Clark Kent ripped off his glasses before becoming Superman. The Lone Ranger certainly did not wear glasses as he rode Silver into adventure.
I became adept at memorizing what was on the chalkboard while sharpening my pencils at the front of the classroom. My supremely sharp pencils quickly wore down to nubs. I took to asking kindly David Urban, who sat next to me, what was on the board. He’d patiently read it, not understanding my horror of wearing spectacles. Filmstrips were a nightmare, as Mrs. Spotts, the fifth grade teacher, would randomly pick us to read the captions. Usually I could weasel my chair up to the front of the room. Wouldn’t you know, one day I was sneaking a peak at the book in my desk and Mrs. Spotts called on me to read the caption. I had to walk up to the front of the room to see it, and she wasn’t buying my excuse that David Urban or John Holcomb were blocking my view. The kids laughed when I had to stand about 3 feet from it to read it. Mrs. Spotts promptly send me to have my eyes checked. Busted.
The moment I walked out of the optician’s office with my new glasses (NOT pink, thank you) I immediately tripped over a curb. Reason is, I was staring at a billboard and marveling at what eagle eyes I now had. My mom laughed.
I had to learn to put my Superhero dreams away in the eyeglasses case, take out my dorky glasses, and focus on my schoolwork.
I’m still trying to focus on things. Hard to do, I find. Yesterday a friend and I met with a professional grant writer to learn more grant writing. I was overflowing with ideas for money making schemes. It took a lot of effort to smash them back into the box. Couldn’t resist letting a few out. Ideas are cheap. I can think of any number of ideas we could try.
But implementation is the costly commodity. The challenge does not come in thinking up what to do, it comes in making it happen. The money from the grants is only going to be realized when the distractions are cleared away, we shine our efforts on a single-minded task, and develop a core grant writing scheme.
Superheroes are numerous, lined up to launch themselves forth to save something. However, girls with glasses might just be the ones to focus on the task and get it done. Ta-da!
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