The Fine Print

I own multiple readers. Got a problem with that?

Last week, Americans learned Jeb Bush ticked the wrongbox on a voter registration application in 2009, thus declaring himself “Hispanic.” 

Some politicians think Bush’s slip-of-the-pen was a deliberate attempt to curry favor with Latino voters, but a psychologist suggests the man who’s considering a presidential bid is so invested in his relationship with his Mexico-born wife Columba, his identity has fused with hers. 

Me, I think Bush misplaced his reading glasses.

Back in 2009, the former governor would have been 56 and had probably used readers for a decade or more. As the American Optometric Association notes, “Beginning in the early to mid-forties, most adults may start toexperience problems with their ability to see clearly at close distances,especially for reading and computer tasks. This normal aging change in theeye's focusing ability, called presbyopia, will continue to progress over time.” 

Reading glasses are all too easy to misplace. Those of us over forty put them on to peer at the computer screen, skim a newspaper article, or read a text message, then take them off to talk to a colleague across the room or across the building, and forget where we left them. People my age buy non-prescription multiples at the drugstore, Costco, or Sam’s and squirrel them away for peace of mind. No matter what happens: natural disaster or zombie apocalypse, we’ll be able to read the small print.

Jeb Bush’s identity may not have fused with his wife’s, but I bet he’s borrowed her readers. Ever been at a restaurant and seen one pair of reading glasses shared by a table full of middle-aged diners?

Unfortunately, Bush won't be able to borrow his wife’s reading glasses for much longer since everything about the appearance of presidential hopefuls is scrutinized. That scrutiny will keep him from wearing readers on a lanyard, tucking them into a pocket protector or hooking them over the neck of a tee shirt. If he peers at people over them, he risks looking professorial—a turn-off for some voters; if he attempts to read the printed page without them, he’ll either appear cross or cross-eyed.

Some eye doctors advise patients who are both near- and far-sighted to wear one contact lens to correct myopia and the other to correct presbyopia. Bifocals without lines or progressive glasses are another possibility, but I have no clue whether these options fit Jeb Bush’s situation.

I own several readers, and if Jeb ever has to fill out forms in my vicinity, I’ll lend him a pair. If you see me squinting at small print because I've misplaced my magnification, I hope you'll let me borrow yours.

Your turn. Do you wear readers or do you consider 10-point type easy on the eyes? If you use readers, how many times a day do you misplace them?

  

Spring? When Did That Happen?

Oh, redbud, how I love you.

I hit “print” on my last blog post just after Groundhog Day. That’s right, all of six weeks ago. Unlike Punxsutawney Phil, I didn’t plan to hole up in a burrow until spring arrived. Nevertheless, that’s what I did.

Happy spring. The view outside my burrow is green with pops of pear-blossom white and redbud pink. Still, I wonder where I misplaced February. And why is March racing past like a lamb chased by a lion?

I did go AWOL from the burrow a time or two. Most recently, I accompanied my mother to an appointment she’d made with an ENT--ear, nose and throat doctor—and an audiologist. She’s interested in hearing aids.

Unlike eyeglasses, hearing aids don’t provide instant gratification. They amplify volume but don’t do much to improve clarity of sound. That means wearers have to work at “active listening,” that is, listening to fill in for missed words while ignoring background noise. As long as a person wants to hear, the task is doable.

When the ENT asked my mother why she was interested in hearing aids, she answered, “My children think I need them.”

Oh, no.  That statement, while crystal in clarity, didn’t say she wanted to hear and would do what it took to adapt to aids.

Neither the ENT nor the audiologist pushed her. They’d heard what I did. Fortunately, the offer of a thirty-day trial appealed to my risk-averse mom, plus it posed a challenge.  She likes challenges.

Overnight, she decided to try the aids. “I don’t want to be isolated,” she said.  Fair enough. Hearing loss cuts people off from conversation, particularly from the asides, off-the-cuff comments, plays on words, and comebacks that help us understand the speakers' personalities and temperaments.

My mother will make her best effort with the aids, and I’ll come out of my burrow. It was cozy in there, but, like my mom, I don’t want to be isolated.

Your turn:  Is the weather in your part of the world spring-like or still wintry? Does warm weather propel you out and about, represent allergy season for you, or make you long for your puffy jacket and mittens?

Weird Science and Biting the Hand That Feeds You

On Monday, the Pennsylvania groundhog known as Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, thereby forecasting six more weeks of winter. New York’s Staten Island Chuck didn’t see his shadow, thus predicting an early spring. What’s a person to do when groundhogs can’t agree on the weather? Turn, turn, turn to science.

Sure, meteorologists’ predictions of snowfall may miss the mark by inches or miles, but big picture’s usually right.  In New York City, recent winter storm Juno didn’t live up to its hype as “potentially historic,” but Massachusetts got hit hard.

Does this post sound like a snow-obscured criticism of the anti-vaccination folks? I admit anti-vaxxers’ distrust of science is on my mind, but I don’t expect New Jersey Governor Chris Christie and Kentucky Senator Rand Paul to defend the historical accuracy of groundhogs’ weather predictions or champion Americans’ right to choose their sources of weather news.

Did you know Punxsutawney Phil bit the gloved hand of one of his handlers Monday? I don’t blame the rodent. Would you like to be roused from a warm burrow and exhibited before flashing lights in near-freezing temperatures?

Phil’s got a better excuse for peevishness than I do, but when has lack of good reason ever stopped me? Ready for another rant?

It’s good science to consume vitamin- and mineral-rich fruits like citrus, but you won’t catch me buying Halo mandarins.

I find the Halo commercials disturbing. Why? Pouty, apparently non-verbal kids threaten parents who allowed the family’s larder to run bare of mandarins. One child points a laser at his father. Another slips the decapitated head of a toy horse into her parents’ bed. In both cases, cowed parents rush to the grocery store to stock up on Halos. Wait! What happened to time-out for kids who threaten bodily harm and destroy things?

“It’s just a commercial,” Hubs says. “The kids are demanding fresh fruit instead of candy. You should be happy.”

I’m not. Those kids are creepy. Next thing you know, they’ll want groundhogs as pets. As adults, they’ll take their parents to court for having had them vaccinated.

Your turn: Punxsutawney Phil, science, or both? Love or hate those Halo mandarin commercials?