These Old Eyes

Three quarters of a century these old eyes of mine have seen, slightly less if we’re being accurate, need to subtract the first nine months of darkness, no medical reason for it,  something called Failure to Thrive Syndrome, the result of no nurturing in the foster system . . . but see they did once Dale and Evelyn adopted the blind kid, and they’ve been seeing ever since.

A bit cloudy, now, a bit blurry, like seeing through permanent teardrops, the natural order of things as the end slowly approaches, certainly nothing to worry about, nothing to be sad about, for growing old gives us a perspective on life that only hard living can give us, and death is there to keep us honest, the line from a song, sung by a songwriter himself moved on to the Great Unknown.

These old eyes have seen incredible sites, hold your breath sites, holy shit sites, sites that make you realize how big this world is, how smack me across the face breathtaking nature is, two oceans and a gulf, mountains so high the peaks were nestled in weather systems of their own making, so broad they blotted out the neighboring landscape, touched by the gods beauty, not all grand in scale, the ladybug and hummingbird certainly held their own in producing beauty, and remind us all, daily, that big things come in tiny packages, and it is all connected, every one of us, every one of them, a delicate balance I have seen, visions so miraculous which cannot be denied, cannot be explained, for words are incapable of describing such elegance.

These eyes have seen the full spectrum of human emotions, on display, sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly, the loving glow of a mother as she looks at her newborn, the vitriol of racism, the violence of intolerance, the refusal to budge in a budgeable moment, the death stare of the insane, the blank stare of the deceased, the featureless stare of a serial killer, the tears of those who have given up, and the determination of those who refuse to wave the white flag.

These eyes have seen incredible advancements in science, in exploration, in gidgets and gadgets, from party lines to 5G, from exploring the North Pole to exploring the Moon, from crank engines to push-buttons, from the eradication of polio to heart transplants, from no clue about heritage to the color of eyes and hair of great great great great great great grandmothers.

I have seen the mighty fall from grace, far too often, and I’ve seen the peons attempt to climb a ladder missing rungs and unclimbable.

I’ve seen species which no longer exist, species which will exist for a few years longer, and species which seem to exist no matter the obstacles. I have seen balmy summers turn into nonstop heatwaves, polar ice caps shrink, the highest snow total in history on a mountain which has now lost eighteen of its glaciers, and coastal cities where once there was no coast.

My eyes have witnessed the death of the American Dream, the Australian Dream, the British Dream, and any other dream having to do with home ownership and a comfortable living environment. I have seen unions disappear like the dinosaurs of old, and ego-maniacs write a brand new definition of greed.

I have eyes but often I cannot see. I have moments when clarity is my constant companion, twenty-twenty vision and unfailing judgment. I also have moments when I cannot see the truth, shrouded as I am by ego and vanity, tossed and turned in a sea of preconceived notions that turn yellow to gray and red to white. No night-vision goggles for this man; toss darkness into the equation and I am blinded, lost and groping for a reference point, a true north, from which I can make an intelligent decision, from which I can set my bearings and find my true self again.

On the best days I can see injustice. On my best days I can see compassion and empathy as surely as I see the rising sun, and I can embrace those attributes as one would a long-lost lover.

On my worst days I am self-centered and wrapped up in a cocoon of apathy. I look in a mirror and see my own reflection and, on those worst days, I do not like the view.

And, lest this appear to be a negative diatribe, we finally arrive at the central point of this missive . . . these eyes have seen love, baby, love, it’s healing effects, it’s ability to forge understanding and empathy in the coldest of hearts, and it’s forever a symbol of hope, that there is a chance, slim though it may be, that mankind will finally pull its collective head out of its arse, and simply love one another.

We can only hope that one day we all shall see with 20/20 vision.