THIS happened a few years ago. My driver was a little confused that morning, “Sir, but why are you insisting on your old glasses?” I could well understand his being puzzled: It had been a day of problems I had gone through yesterday, and in a moment of frustration I’d leaned on my spectacles and broken the frame. I’d stared with dismay at what remained of my glasses, and since I hadn’t written my column, called out to my driver and asked him to take it to the optician’s and get it repaired immediately. “Sir,” he had said over the phone, “The man says it will take two days!”
“What will I do for two days?” I asked. “He is giving you a replacement pair sir!” said my driver, sounding pleased. The glasses he brought back were progressive lenses, the latest frame, and looked good on me. I thanked him for being so considerate and got back to work. My wife was the first who saw me, “Bob, you look good,” she said, “Much better than those old ones of yours!”
“Thanks,” I said glowing, and quietly looking in the mirror, to see the new me. A couple of hours of serious writing and I wondered why I was feeling sleepy, till I realized I had a headache. I left my work for awhile, closed my eyes and the headache disappeared. It was my fancy glasses, I realized, however fancy they were, however good they looked on my face, they were not my number. They were meant for someone else, and had been given to me as a temporary replacement.
I longed for my old pair. My driver looked at me confused. “Let him take his time sir, these look good on you!” “No,” I said, maybe a little sharply, “They may look good, but they don’t serve my need!” I watched him go away carrying the fancy pair: Wasn’t it just like life; we look at something that catches our fancy; maybe a Mercedes, maybe a pretty woman, handsome hunk, and feel how good it would look on us. “Car looks good!” I say as I stare into showroom window.
“It’s not your number Bob!” says a God above. “Why not?” I ask and feel a silence as I go back and sit in my old model car. As the car starts the society sweeper, the watchman and his wife touch the bonnet and laugh. I laugh with them. “That’s you Bob!” says the same Voice above, “Would you be the same with a Mercedes?” Those fancy glasses looked good on me, but they didn’t help my eyes; we will all look good in a fancy car, but it may not help our soul, it won’t help who we really are. The driver brought back my repaired old pair and laughed as I grabbed it and put it on..!
