Eye of Glass

I learned many lessons from my co-workers at a meat packing house in the summer of '65.

Handsome young Joby taught me that it is best to keep one's wife and two girlfriends separate and unaware of each other's existence. Slovenly Delmo taught me that leaving one's lunch on the kitchen counter overnight leads to a plague of ants in the workplace lunchroom. Truck Driver Smokey taught me that binocular vision and depth perception are not an absolute requirement for safe driving. Smokey had a glass eye after a childhood accident.

Those lessons served me well in the ensuing years. I never had to limit romantic encounters to dimly-lit restaurants and the back row at the Drive-In movie. I never felt the crunch of a masticated insect when I bit into my luncheon sandwich. I did, however find occasions when a glass eye would be advantageous.

"Who wants to explain the effect of viscosity on the Bernoulli Effect? Anyone?" Should the student who partied the weekend away and failed to do the assigned reading make eye contact with the professor? Bad idea. How about staring down at the desk? Also a bad idea. It looks like the student is avoiding the question. With a glass eye, one can do both thus confusing the professor who will certainly call on someone else.

Then there is the dreaded semi-annual Dental Checkup. What do you look at while the Hygienist is painfully scraping away at a six month build-up of tartar on your teeth? You can count the ceiling tiles only so many times. The number of lighting fixtures doesn't change after the first count. Never stare at the Hygienist! She might be self-conscious about that zit near her ear and punish your impudence with indescribable oral agony.

With a glass eye, you have a built-in excuse. "Sure, one of my eyes is staring at your nose hairs, but that's my glass eye!"

Come to think of it, of all the guys in the meat packing house, Smokey had the best cared-for teeth. Now I know why.