There was a time when I had a small blemish on my right arm. Little Paul Gary was fascinated by it. He’d call any pimple, mole or dark spot “specks.’’
I never understood where he had picked up that word. We didn’t often use it and it didn’t really describe the little brown spot on my arm that he observed. Still, he’d inspect the mole closely, point at the spot and label it “a speck.”
Fast forward some 16 years and “specs” have entered the vocabulary again. This time, however, it is a synonym for eyeglasses rather than a pimple. You know, spectacles. Or ‘goshes’ as young Holly Gary labelled them back in the day.
Anyway, as of yesterday, the boy has glasses.
For years, I have operated under the mistaken notion that both my kids received my genes – poor hearing/great eyesight. But, considering Paul’s great talent for music, one would assume he has a pretty good ear. Still, me being Mr. 20/15, I figured both my kids inherited my great eyesight.
Holly has followed my pattern. Like me, she has a hard time picking up low tones if there is a lot of background noise in a room. But, she is able to count the individual feathers of an eagle in flight.
OK, maybe not, but you get the idea.
Anyway, when the news broke earlier this week that Paul has having trouble reading the white board in one of his college classrooms, I was ready to amend my theory. Maybe he wasn’t part of the 20/15 club after all.
Back during his baseball days, it never occurred to me that #17 had any trouble picking up the rotation of the ball coming his way when he was in the batter’s box.
This eye situation, then, must be a recent development.
In any case, his trip to the optometrist yesterday confirmed what he had suspected and a couple hours later, after consultation with his girlfriend, he had picked out a stylish pair of frames.
Specs, if you will.
JG
Originally posted 3/26/2014
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