Life's a blur

We had a visitor Tuesday. Our friend had to spend the day in Kalamazoo, so she dropped off her daughter, who's in Elspeth's class at Douglas, to spend the time with us. Part of the plan was to spend the afternoon at the Holland Community Aquatic Center.

Like all plans, though, this one did not survive contact.

Elspeth got sick with a strong fever. She was tired and didn't eat, but she did a very adult thing -- she told us to go ahead to the aquatic center without her (picture her draping her hand over her forehead and whispering this a la 1940's theater).

We did.

The challenge for me was keeping an eye on Elspeth's friend without my glasses on. When I take off my frames, life becomes a collection of blurry colors until I'm right on top of the object. I know the shape and bathing suit color of my youngest daughter, so I look for that similarly shaped blur in the pools. She has a silver bathing suit, which is pretty unique, so I've got a line on her. But Elspeth's friend? She had a blue one-piece suit -- like every other kid in the entire facility!

I spend most of the time squinting as I scan the water for the children. People must think I have a permanent scowl on my face ... or they think I'm some pervert (not just any pervert!) as I try to figure out which child is which in the blue one-piece suit.

Funny sidelight: Several years ago, we had a party for Elspeth at the aquatic center. My wife gave me the camera to take pictures of the kids in the pool. I didn't have my glasses on. So we ended up with a roll of film plastered with images of kids whom we didn't invite to the party and don't know who they are.

Another situation

The afternoon was going well, but I blundered into another problem that occurs at the aquatic center: Someone I know approached me as I was walking along one of the pools. Without my glasses, he was just another blur. In the echos of the cavernous facility, I couldn't make out his voice right away, so I had to lean right into him to see it was one of my co-workers. Seeing me without my glasses, he quickly understood my awkwardness.

Then, as I always do when I recognize someone I know there, I grow self-conscious of my physical limits. I'm a middle-aged, fat white guy (and, man, is my upper body white!), which is scary enough, but I have a birth defect as well that I'm not happy to point out to those around me. Luckily, it was toward the end of the afternoon, so I grabbed my towel to hide behind as I spoek with him.

But worse yet is running into these familar people in the shower room. Talk about being self-conscious! Not only am I fat, middle-aged white guy with a birth defect, I'm also no porn star, if you know what I mean. Then add the "Seinfeld" shrinkage factor and my self-esteem just runs down the drain.

A few years ago, I ran into my boss in the showers. This is one of the few times not having on my glasses was a benefit.

Thought: Elspeth's fever broke this morning.