“Buddy Holly Glasses”

c. 2018 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(10-18)

Basic black.

Recently, after years of battling with poor eyesight and no vision coverage, I decided on paying out-of-pocket for a new pair of spectacles. Or, to be more literal, purchasing them on credit terms with worry over the bill to be postponed. After making several trips to West Virginia due to family responsibilities, always with a co-pilot on hand, it seemed logical to address this need. Internet study had revealed that getting a new pair of glasses would be prohibitively expensive. But the necessity had become overwhelming. At home, things stayed orderly enough that I could navigate from memory. But sessions at the computer grew more difficult. Shopping trips were limited to familiar stores, after I once struggled for 20 minutes to find a dishpan at a local megacenter. Automotive voyages were taken only in daylight and not at all in bad weather. I hesitated to wander from familiar roads.

Finally, I had to break my budget, or give up leaving the house.

Internet study revealed that familiar spots for an eye exam and corrective lenses were all out of reach sans some kind of insurance. Then, I happened to pause in front of the vision center at my local Walmart, while visiting for dog food. A trip never enjoyed, yet worthwhile to save $5.00 per bag over the price at our traditional grocer. With a lump in my throat, I walked inside.

Predictably, they had hundreds of frames on display. Most were stylish and expensive. But in a back corner, far removed from the flow of customer traffic, were four pairs, priced at $9.00 each. One of that select group projected a simple, retro vibe rendered in black plastic. I pondered for a moment, then tried them on in front of the display mirror. The look peering back from that reflective square made me laugh out loud. It was one I could embrace, without hesitation.

Buddy Holly.

“All of my life, I’ve been waitin’

Tonight there’ll be no hesitatin’ oh boy! (Oh boy!)

When you’re with me, oh boy! (Oh boy!)

The world can see that you were meant for me.”

To be sure, no one would mistake me for that iconic performer, even with the new glasses. Unless of course, Mr. Holly had lived to become a middle-aged, paunchy fellow with gray sideburns and a stooped frame, bent sideways against his cane. Because I had lately embraced a bit of yesteryear flair in choosing eye wear, the change was not out of bounds. Not one that would shock friends and neighbors. But I wondered quietly if a $9.00 product could truly fit my needs.

Happily, my friend Janis approved the look.

A fellow named Dr. Friedman was on duty. When I sat with the optometrist, for an exam, he seemed puzzled by my poor vision. I confessed to having been long overdue for a check-up, but not so far that my lack of focus would have been expected.

“What line on the chart can you read clearly?” he asked while gesturing toward the far wall of his office.

“None of them,” I observed.

“NONE?” he exclaimed.

“None,” I repeated. “Everything looks blurry.”

He decided on a test with an index card that had three paragraphs of black print. Each was a different size. It slid forward on a rail. “Tell me when this is impossible to read,” he instructed.

The card was almost touching my nose before I complained.

“Really?” he stammered. “You need it so close to your eyes?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

The doctor shook his head. “This isn’t normal. Do you have other health issues?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What medications do you take?” he asked.

“None, currently,” I replied.

“NONE?” he shouted again.

My neck muscles began to tighten. “I am disabled but have no health insurance.”

“That doesn’t come with disability?” he coughed.

“No,” I explained. “It is a complicated story. I have been unemployed since 2016. After missing an enrollment period for the ACA initially, I was over the limit during my second year because of withdrawing retirement funds to stay afloat. I paid penalties on the money but also had to count it as income. An easy choice because I would have otherwise been homeless. But Medicare would not be available for two years. I appeared wealthy by government guidelines, but was actually broke. Literally could not afford to see my family physician. So I had to drop all medications.”

He bowed his head. “Amazing.”

“Yes indeed,” I nodded.

“Well, I will help you to see properly, again,” the doctor promised. “Do not worry.”

He dug out a contraption that made me think a bit of Thomas Dolby, the artist who released “She Blinded Me With Science” in 1982. I wanted to get a ‘selfie’ while wearing these goofy goggles, but was afraid to agitate the optometrist. My friend Janis found it very amusing. But she had forgotten her phone. After having grabbed the wrong set of lenses, he retrieved a second pair that worked better.

For the first time in years, I could read a promotional sign over one of the aisles.

When making my final order, the total price seemed to climb with each necessary feature. I chose the Buddy Holly frames to avoid a complete financial meltdown. And, to maintain a 50’s vibe. The look was right. Perfect for a retired retail manager and reborn writer. One always a bit off the center line of life.

“All of my love, all of my kissin’

You don’t know what you’ve been missin’ oh boy! (Oh boy!)

When you’re with me oh boy! (Oh boy!)

The world can see that you were meant for me.”

The new glasses were a perfect fit.

“Quirky,” Janis giggled. “You either look like a hipster or an old man.”

“Old man,” I agreed. “Glad to see the outside world again.”

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