A Blind Eye

“You know, friend, it must be terrible being blind.” The man said, his checkered overcoat flowing away from his seated body on the bench. 1

“Why do you think that is, friend?” Came the droll reply. The men sat shoulder to shoulder in a casual way, facing the river. Each man had dressed for the weather, both prepared for the early autumn chill of New York. 2

They met up once a week to catch up on lively events. Sundays were their meeting days. They both considered themselves too far in their prime to catch up over a game of chess at meeting halls. They’d also long ago given up the sanctity of the church and even now as their loved ones were involved in holy devotion the two men separated themselves from their families, waving them off as they made their way to the park, each man coming from separate directions.3

Hector Augustine and George Pratter had met some forty years ago. They had known each other since birth it seemed. They had been to school together and war together. They had each embarked on their own careers and had both been successful. Their friendship had outlasted one marriage for George and two for Hector. Now, retired they both had to face the common feeling of uselessness, as their children became their successors, a fact that had kept their conversations heated in the past. They also shared the common complaint that there was no more escaping their wives. It seemed different when they were married and working but now, older and at home they had to spend every minute of everyday with their wives and their fussing and it was driving them both slowly insane.4

Hector was a short man with a springy mustache that curled slightly up at the ends in an old world fashion. He always dressed respectively and with and old world flair that matched his mustache. He even had his chained timepiece in his pocket, completing the look. 5

George on the other hand was tall and lean for his age, something he had managed to inherit from his own father. He never dressed the part of his wealth, but considered comfort above all else. He did have something in common with Hector when it came to fashion and that was they were both stuck in the past. His thirty-year-old coat wrapped firmly around him he turned slightly towards his companion, “It just seems like a horrible state of being. Imagine always being in the dark, running into things, and over things. Missing all the wonderful sights of the world.” 6

Hector shrugged in nonchalance. “Perhaps the blind become accustomed to walking around things and not worrying if they have to step over something. Why all this talk of the blind?”7

“My grandson had made a remarkable observation to me about the blind the other day. Would you like to hear it?”8

“I suppose. There’s not much else that you seem to want to talk about today.”9

George continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “We were all in the sitting room, me, Lizzie and young Richard when Isabelle came in with Frederick. You know how Lizzie just adores having her family over...”10

Hector couldn’t stop himself from interrupting, “I seem to recall you enjoying your family coming over as well.” 11

George pursed his lips before continuing, “Well, Frederick came bounding into the room and right up to me to tell me that he had had a revelation about the blind.”12

“A revelation, indeed? His words?”13

“He spends a good deal of time at the church.” George said and was met with a grunt of agreement from Hector. “Do you want to hear what the boy said or not?”14

“I’m all ears.” Said Hector. 15

“He came up to me and told me that it must be terrible being blind because he could not imagine being blind and dropping the soap in the shower.”16

This managed to get a chuckle out of the stoic Hector.17

“He told me that he recently had a similar experience, when he got some soap in his eye and then accidentally dropped the soap bar. He said it felt like hours before he could find the soap again without his sight.”18

“I’m sure that a blind person’s worst fear is not dropping the soap in the shower.” Said Hector, his eyes wandering to watch a young mother and daughter play on the grass near the water.19

“That’s what I began to tell him but he then he went on to tell me what young Richard said to him after he told him, which made being a blind person even worse.” 20

“What could that have been? If I know Richard it was probably intentionally nasty.” 21

George frowned at Hector for his comments on his favorite grandson. “Richard told him it wasn’t the worst to drop the soap in the shower, but to actually be in prison and drop the soap in the shower and that that would be something to be scared over.” George said, his frown now transformed into a wide grin framed by his deep wrinkles. 22

“The cad! Why, Fred is only a small boy. In truth, I don’t know why Richard wasn’t sent away to military school like every other misbehaving sod in your family.”23

“I was only sent off for a minor offense, hardly worthy.”24

“You stole nine cases of beer!”25

George chuckled at his misspent youth, “I wasn’t the only one going to be drinking. I just happened to be the only one who got caught.” he said, his face upturned to the morning chill.26

Hector laughed with him, as their conversation continued. George continued with his tale of his grandsons and their fear of being blind and Hector listened obediently as the tale twisted. In the distance the young mother continued to play with her daughter.27

It was a new tradition in her small family. A way to escape on the weekend, in between work and school for her daughter and just spend time together away from home. It had been one of her earliest perceptions of childhood that had her thinking that while many people garner great memories at home, most of the time the memories of childhood were of places and activities that happened outside the home. As if the home just blurred the years together and gave no defining moment. She had decided then that if she had children she would most assuredly spend a great deal of time with them away from home so they would retain happy memories with her. It just so happened that she had been blessed with a daughter, now six and in first grade. Little Rebecca, with her pink pigtails bouncing, was cleaning the remaining sandwich crumbs from her between her fingers. Her eyes gleamed with intelligence as she watched the two men on the bench. The men had been there before they arrived and looked as if they were getting ready to leave. 28

“Mama, why is that man dressed like that?” the girl asked, her brown eyes turning to focus on her mother. “He looks funny.”29

The mother smiled gently, “Perhaps it’s his favorite coat.”30

The girl swung around again to look at the older man wearing the checkered coat. “Daddy would never where that.” 31

“No, you’re right. He wouldn’t.” The mother glanced back at the men, who were now standing and facing one another. The taller of the two wearing his faded checkered coat. She could tell that it had some years under its belt; hard years outside protecting the wearer from the weather. It looked as if it had once contained bright blocks of color, but had faded over the years. It wasn’t that the coat was really terrible. The fact that the man had paired it with a large pinstripe suit may have been what was so distracting; even to a six-year-old eye, she mused. She began packing up the containers that held their brunch.32

“Why was that short man talking out loud to himself? I don’t think the other man could hear him but he kept talking. That’s probably why he kept waving his arms around.” The girl looked perfectly innocent as she pointed out the flaws of the conversation. The mother couldn’t resist scooping her off the ground and holding her in the air causing a series of spontaneous giggles from her daughter.33

“You are far too observant, Rebecca!” She said, her laughter mingling with her daughters. “Help me pack up.” She said as she placed her on her feet.
The girl bent to do as she was asked, her eyes coming once again to stray to the now departing backs of the two men. They walked arm in arm, the taller one carrying a cane at his side.34

“I guess he’s not mad.” She murmured.35

“What’s that, honey?”36

“I guess he’s not mad.” She said again, “See, they’re still friends.”37

The mother turned to watch with her daughter as the men slowly made their way down the path towards the town. She smiled again.38

George and Hector had reached the forked road. Each one leading towards their separate churches, where they would again meet up with their wives.39

“Until next time.” Hector said, extracting his arm from his companion. 40

George smiled and hooked his walking cane onto his other arm as he raised his arms and signed a farewell back to his friend. He turned and began the long journey back to St. Catherine’s, his walking cane bouncing from side to side as he made his way.41

Hector turned as well and made his way down a separate path.42

The mother turned to her daughter, “They were never mad at each other, sweetheart.” Rebecca perked up upon hearing that and she returned to her mother’s side. “The tall man with the checkered coat is blind, see how he’s walking with his cane?” The girl bobbed her head as her mother spoke, her mouth forming an o. “He was using sign language to talk with his friend, that’s why his arms were waving.”43

“But why was the other man talking to himself?” Rebecca asked, her expression puzzled. 44

“He wasn’t talking to himself, he was talking to his friend, the blind man.”45

“Why didn’t the blind man talk back to him instead of waving his arms?”46

“Because, dear, that man was deaf.”47