All the Better to See You With

     The truth is, Marshall needed glasses. 

     Yes, I needed glasses, but I didn't get them until 1979, aged 19. By then I'd missed too much and lost more than enough to ruin any boy's coming of age, Southern California story. 

     My medium astigmatism caused enough fuzzy, out-of-scale blurriness to terribly hamper my educational and emotional development. Sure, I could barge forward with youthful power and vigor to accomplish almost any physical challenge, but my inability to make clear eye contact with people beyond even a couple feet away left me a poor, disconnected, uninformed boy.

     Our cousin Rick, six years older, who had a gift for music and a quick, sharp wit, took to calling me dummy. I didn't understand his critique of me at the time, and stubbornly denied his observations. Although Rick had no knowledge of my short-sightedness, he absolutely recognized my lack of focus, my inability to communicate in meaningful and intelligent ways using proper eye contact and body language.

     I missed so much, especially the times I remember people looking straight into my eyes while flashing some positive facial expression, attempting to make meaningful connections that were totally lost on me because of my bad sight.

     I could only return blank, confused, moronic stares. And although only my cousin Rick came right out and said it, I'm sure a lot of other people also thought of me as dumb. The really sad part is I had the intellect to respond back to people in amazing and positive ways. I believe my poor vision barred me from having deep, important experiences, and my intellect stood by rusting and unused.

     At 19, when I finally got those glasses, I couldn't handle it. The laser-sharp strangeness of reality felt so bizarre that I threw the specs away after only a week. I got another pair at 22, and since then I've come to realize just how devastating not getting corrective lenses as a child and having them throughout my teens has been for me.

     Losing my chance to be mentally crisp and fully connected whilst in my youth hurt me both emotionally and developmentally for a long time after I finally got that second pair of preppy lenses at 22.

     Ah, but it's all under the bridge now. And all my memories and past times are still very important and beautiful to me. I've learned to live with what happened, and I'm mentally focused and fully connected now, which is all that really matters. I've met my intellect, and I like what I see.

     As far as the past goes, I only like to think about how and what I could've done differently. However, and much more importantly, I'm choosing to do things differently right here, right now, and literary creation seems to be my best and favorite way to shake any coulda, shoulda, wouldas from my past.