If I could upload old photos you would see those faded red colors, black, grey, faded browns and the worst beigeys from the 65-66 photos.  This photo shows a little girl holding her brothers hands, standing in front of one of the ugliest green couchest from the 40's, maybe.   And the little girl's eyes are as crossed as the devil is tempting.

The five dollar word is strabismus.  But cross-eyed is so much more accurate.  I ended up with my first surgery at a tender two years,  and it takes little to recall the bright bright scary operating room lights, the murmuring doctor and nurses, white white and black rubber and that smell-yuck-that smell, that black rubber triangle descending is so scary it's going to eat me go away go away go away....

So the two year old gets glasses.  These were MUY attractive.  Because my mother was so into little girls, I got to have the solid black heavy plastic framed glasses like old men wore.  I'm not sure why these glasses were picked out.  Maybe that's why I gave them away to everyone I met.  Or put them everywhere I could think.  The cat. The neighbor's dog.  The neighbor's garbage.   Between every cushion in our house, perhaps recognizing how dangerous that could be with two older rambunctious brothers.  I left them on the floor. That was sheer genius, as far as I'm concerned. 

I guess my mother thought she won when the ugly, tight, black  band that hooked on the bows of the glasses and wrapped around the back of my head was forced upon me.  The band that pushed my short boy hair up and created the "unkempt old man look" that I, no joke, just witnessed again at a funeral last night.  The short boy hair that was cut by our beautican mother.  Great look for a little girl.  Fabulous, don't you think?  What all the 3 year olds are wearing this year.  Or 67-68.

For those of you unlucky enough to be born with "stereo vision", eyes that work together, let me share some of the better perks.  When I  play pool or darts, I NEVER count on winning.  Why?  Because the ball or the bullseye always is in two different places, depending on which eye I look out of.  How about depth perception?   Take that for granted, do ya.  Well, mine comes and goes.  Usually, I don't know it's gone until I step down the step  and ow! it wasn't that deep, or pour a drink in a glass and it overflows,  and we won't even talk about where I see a stop sign-here or across the street. 

The phrase eye-hand coordination takes on fresh meaning for me.   It is dificult, if not freakin' laughable, to think about a child with brain damage that affected primarily this very thing (see part 1) attempt to catch a ball while her depth perception isn't working and her man glasses are secured to her boy-head with a painful band and one eye sees far and one eye sees near and my mother is yelling again and I am supposed to practice the piano to get coordination in my hands but I hate practice!

No wonder I was overwhelmed.  I am not surprised my mother says I knocked the milk over every night at supper.  Thaaat must be why she was so unhappy...

My mother didn't win.  She didn't win because she never had the desire, love, vision to see her own daughter.