Don't Mess With My Glasses

I was thinking about my vision and how important it is to me when I remembered how it began. So, I thought I’d write about. Hope you enjoy..

My love affair with my vision started when I was a young tot in third grade. That’s when I got my first pair of glasses. They were the attractive ones (tongue in cheek) with beige coloring and diamond cut inserts on the sides. I loved my glasses since I could see clearly when I wore them. Go figure. Anyways…here’s a true story:

It was a beautiful summer’s day. My friend and I were out catching pollywogs at one of my favorite places..the pollywog pond. The pollywog pond was a housing development gone bad since it never got further then a bulldozer digging up dirt and leaving a big hole in the ground. When it rained, the water gathered. Hence, it turned into a pond. With time, the pollywogs came. It was fun catching pollywogs in a bucket and taking them home. I’d keep them in the backyard. I loved watching these swimmers sprought legs and begin the maturation process into reptilehood. My mom didn’t like it, though. “Get those filthy things out of here. Put them back where they belong,” she’d say. Sometimes she could be a party pooper.

Back to the story…as my friend and I were checking out the new batch of pollywogs, a voice came from nowhere. “Get out of here. You don’t belong here. This is my property.” I looked up and saw Stinky, the brat from the next block. Stinky’s real name was Billy. He got his nickname since anyone with a sense of smell would know he was around. He could never sneak up on anyone. Stinky and I were enemies. I used to beat him in baseball all the time and he didn’t like it. He would tease me mercilessly in front of others which I didn’t like. We couldn’t stand the sight of each other.

I stood up. “This isn’t your property. It’s my dad’s,” I replied. “I said get out of here,” he said as he moved closer. “No. Make me,” I retorted. So, with that, he started pushing me. He made the first move. I pushed back. Then, a couple pushes later, my glasses flew off. That did it. You can mess with me, but don’t mess with my glasses.

If anyone is familiar with Curly and the “Pop Goes The Easel” skit…that was what I was like. (Every time Curly would hear the song ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’ he’d go insane and start flinging his arms and punching anything/everything in sight). Stinky and I were fighting when suddenly he got a bloody nose. He turned and started yelling, “I’m gonna tell my mom on you!” He was running home. “Oh yeah! Ya big sissy!” was my response.

Then, my friend and I went to find my coveted glasses. We found them. It was a joy. As I put my glasses on, I remember thinking how nice it was to see clearly. It’s the simple things that matter. Ahh…childhood memories.