Two days ago I picked up a pair of glare-canceling nonprescription glasses (for night driving) and also a pair of prescription glasses, for the dreaded unforeseen circumstances under which my contacts pop clear out of my head.
When you’re at the optician’s, they clamp all these gadgets to your face and then take a picture.
Soooo, documentarian that I am, I took a picture OF that picture.
It’s me all right – same dumb little nose – but my eyes look strangely un-brown.
I knew I had better get some of those glare-killing glasses because I often have precious cargo aboard in my car: seven talented young scholars, entrusted for four years to my town’s local chapter of the A Better Chance Program by their awesome families.
Here they all are last fall, on a fun outing in Boston that Resident Academic Coordinator Penny took them on.
It was also last fall, while bringing them to see an amazing performance of Romeo & Juliet at the Strand Theatre in Dorchester, that I glanced down at my navigator for half a second and rolled into the car in front of us.
At 5 mph, but still.
The woman driving that car yelled “That really hurt!” and grabbed her neck when I jumped out to apologize. She also called the Staties. Those guys arrived, lights flashing, together with three guys in a fire truck, all of whom quickly assessed the situation and declared it a non-event.
The boys, meanwhile, had hopped out of my car right when I did, some of them to comfort me (she was really yelling) and some to take pictures of her completely unblemished rear bumper.
But then, when we all climbed back in to resume out pilgrimage, they were, to a man, quietly texting their mums:
“Terry just rear-ended someone.”
Humbling! AND scary!
Now I take so many precautions behind the wheel it’s a wonder I ever get out of my own driveway, where peace reigns and even the field mouse feel safe.