Broken Glasses

The Orangeburg chapel in Modesto is one of the most awesome buildings I've ever been in, at least from a boy scout's point of view. There are so many nooks, crannies, and secret passageways in that building that playing indoor tag or hide-and-go-seek actually requires real effort. Alas, this story isn't about the indoor maze, but about a small brick utility building on the grass outside.

On this particular day, the scouts were playing a game of tag after our regular meeting. It was a wonderful summer day and we were having a good time. On that very day (or perhaps the day before), I had been to the optometrist to get a new pair of glasses. Mom had gone with me, and the three of us had a long discussion on the merits of glass versus plastic lenses. Glass lenses won't scratch as easily as plastic (a common problem for me), but glass will shatter easily. For the first time in my life, we agreed that I would get glass lenses. I felt responsible.

Of course, this was the period in my life when I wore my glasses all the time. I wore them to school. I wore them to church. I wore them when I played outside. I was wearing them when I turned around and my face found the corner of that brick utility shed on the grass lawn of the Orangeburg Chapel, and the glass lenses shattered.

The Scoutmaster (I don't remember if it was Brother Fairbanks or Brother Blazzard) wanted to make sure that I was OK. He was especially concerned that I may have gotten a glass shard in my eyes. I didn't care about that. I knew that I back to the plastic lenses. And so it was.

Other memories:

- Deborah doesn't get kissed by Dave Spencer (barely!)