But They Still Work: PART TWO

Converse-style shoes Bow Tie o’ the Day is here with me as I make my confession. These were Mom’s reading glasses about a decade ago, and they and the CHRONICLE made me into a thief. I literally stole them from Mom. I didn’t steal them because I needed them. I stole them because she needed to NOT own them anymore.

Mom and I were drinkin’ on my Delta porch, and you know how that gets raucous. A little caffeine in our systems, and we are out of control with the laughter. Suddenly, Mom squealed, “It’s CHRONICLE day!” That was my cue to head to Jubilee to retrieve a copy of that weekly treasure. When I got back to the porch, I handed the paper to Mom. She immediately reached into her duster pocket, where– amid the tissues, rollers, and Tums– she found her reading glasses. To be more precise, she found these wounded, glasses-like spectacles. One lens missing, one arm missing. The remaining lens was as smudged as could be. I was upset at the sight of them, and I demanded Mom ride uptown with me to pick out some new readers for her. She very calmly told me to settle down because “These work just fine.” She opened up the CHRONICLE and started to devour her weekly news feast.

Off, I drove in my red jalopy of a truck. When I returned to the porch, I had two pairs of reading glasses for her. She said, “Oh, thank you. I’m almost done.” And on and on she read without taking the time to switch to the new readers. Finally, she folded up the CHRONICLE, after her first of that week’s many perusals through the issue. She was glad to have the new glasses, but she was unwilling to give up this battered pair. I was unwilling to let her keep them, knowing that if she had them anywhere around her, she would certainly use them if they were handy. Mom deserved better.

So I was bad. Later that day, I stealthily stole these broken glasses from my mother’s duster pocket. It was for her own good though. I thought the glasses had the potential to be downright dangerous to Mom. Of course, I still have the pair, as you can see. Holding onto them helps me feel better about having stolen them from her, because if she really, really, really needed/wanted this exact pair, I could and would certainly give them back to her. She never mentioned this pair of readers ever again. And I did give her two new pairs. But I feel guilty about being a thug. I’m still, technically, a thief. And I still blame the CHRONICLE.