Four Eyes. Blind Berry. The day I walked into my sixth-grade class with new glasses on, those became my new nicknames. It was 1953, but it still feels like it was yesterday.
“I’m never going back to school,” I told Mama when I got home after another day of teasing. “I can’t abide it.”
Mama sighed. She knew how much I hated my new glasses. But when I couldn’t see the board at school, she took me to an optometrist. “This boy’s blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other,” he said when I completed my eye test. So it was four eyes for me.
“People just need time to get used to them,” Mama assured me. “Pretty soon those glasses will be old hat
