(I know I have already posted today, but, this is what I had originally decided to write on today. When I saw the daily prompt, I had to follow through on that one. I mean, who hasn’t thought of writing their own eulogy?)
When I was a sophomore in high school, I took plain geometry. It was a nice class in that I was fascinated by drawing the angles and triangles. Granted, I had no clue what I was doing and I couldn’t make sense of it at all, but I managed to pass with a high C.
My geometry teacher was a man named Willis Webster. We used to call him Willy, not to his face, but that is how everyone referred to him.
Mr. Webster was a middle-aged man who knew his geometry. He had children whom he called his ‘little monsters’. Of course, my older sister who had gone through high school four years before me, had Mr Webster also. She said he referred to his children then as his little monsters. They were in high school at the time my sister was in high school, so his ‘little monsters’ he talked about to our class were in college.
Besides all that, Mr. Webster was color deficient. In other words, color blind. He would sit on his desk to teach and we would all look at his socks. Daily they would not match. It was distracting and fascinating and funny. If someone mentioned his socks, he would just say, “I have another pair just like this at home.” I will never forget Mr. Webster.
In my junior year of high school, I started dating my dear hubby. Shortly into our dating time, I realized that he, too, is color deficient. I knew this and it was obvious when I would wear certain clothes and he would comment on my brown shirt that was actually green. He had a few stumbles in matching clothes while we were dating, but nothing serious.
Once we were married, I discovered that people with problems seeing colors are great camouflage people. This I found out when my dear hubby would grouse about stains that I could not see at all. He would then point them out to me in disgust as the stains were very obvious to him. Many a laundry argument happened because I could not see what he was talking about. We later decided that dry cleaning was best for his shirts as then, the stains were their problem, not mine. I also would remind him that to the ‘naked eye’ there were no stains.
We have managed for the past 38 years to live with colors. I now know that pale greens on walls look like dirty walls to him. So, I avoid painting rooms in green. He now knows to ask sales people what color clothes are when shopping for me. This, or he takes either a friend or one of our daughters shopping. This is after receiving a gift of pajamas, robe and slippers from him. He was so proud of giving me an ensemble for lounging and sleeping. The slippers were brown, the robe orange and the pajamas were pink. I wore them proudly, although the combination was a bit much.
Lately we have not had much a problem. Since he is not working (due to illness), he does not need help with shirts and ties matching.
Yesterday we had an appointment. I was trying to get ready and he pulled out his sock drawer. After rummaging through it, he pulled out two socks. They both had a white band on the very top of the cuff. I looked down and said, ‘yes, that’s brown’ and went on my way. Later yesterday he removed his shoes. The light in the room was perfect for him to clearly see colors. He looked at his feet. There, on his feet was a brown sock and a navy sock. He called me into the livingroom. I looked down and laughed. He was not smiling… I looked at him and said, “Well, you have a matching pair of them upstairs.” Somehow, he didn’t think it was funny.
I did. I wonder how Mr. Webster is doing these days…
Thanks for stopping by, DAF