I can't read anything any more without eyeglasses. In the car, I often get The Boy to look at maps and tell me which way to go because I can't see the tiny print. Because I've been doing a lot of reading lately, I've been wearing my glasses more. I feel somewhat handicapped.
I am reminded of a young woman who was also "handicapped".
Years ago, a family friend from France came to visit. One of the reasons this man came to Toronto was to look for an au pair opportunity for his 17-year-old daughter. He was concerned about her welfare.
His family was fairly comfortable and all his children had post-secondary education, so I asked him what was particularly worrying about this daughter. He said,
"She's the youngest and she's trying to grow up in a hurry. She's handicapped."
"You mean she has a physical handicap or you feel her situation is handicapped."
"No, she is physically handicapped. Here, take a look." He pulled out a photograph of her from his wallet.
The girl in the photograph was stunningly beautiful and glamorous. In fact, I wondered if the photograph was a mere school photo or part of a professionally prepared modelling portfolio.
I said, "What's her handicap?'
He said, "Well you see she's very beautiful, no?"
"Yes."
"She knows that and wants to be a model. See her lips, they are very full."
"Yes."
"The boys like that."
"So...?"
"So she spends all her time with boys, clothes and makeup, and not on school. I need to get her away from France to do something more wholesome, where there are no boys to distract her."
Not ever having had the problem of his daughter, I could not suggest a remedy for her handicap.
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`Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
`That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
`I don't much care where--' said Alice.`Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
`--so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
`Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, `if you only walk long enough.'
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`In that direction,' the Cat said, waving its right paw round, `lives a Hatter: and in that direction,' waving the other paw, `lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad.'
`But I don't want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.
`Oh, you can't help that,' said the Cat: `we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.'
`How do you know I'm mad?' said Alice.
`You must be,' said the Cat, `or you wouldn't have come here.'
Alice didn't think that proved it at all; however, she went on `And how do you know that you're mad?'
2 comments:
Great story. It reminds me of a similar story by Italo Calvino, in which a young man returns to his old village, now wearing glasses. No one recognizes him, despite his calling out to greet them. He feels offended, then realizes it must be his glasses that have made him unrecognizable. So he takes them off. But now, walking down the street when people called out greetings, he could not recognize them and so he ignored them and walked on. Needless to say, it was a disappointing visit for him.
I don't remember the story of the young man with the glasses, but I am honoured to have shared a Calvino-like moment.
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