As kids me and my siblings knew they were not fashionable glasses. His students surely knew it too, but it was trademark by then.
My dad might have have been a Radar O'Reilly clerk had he been sent to Korea. He wasn't.
My dad was bouncing around like a little kid after his cataract surgeries, when his cloudy and nearsighted natural lenses were replaced with bionic plastic. He no longer had to fumble around for his glasses when he got out of bed, and he now drives without glasses.
My dad's dad was an Army Air Corps officer in World War II. My grandpa wanted to fly, to be the brave and handsome pilot who made women swoon, but he was older, experienced, and the Army in its wisdom decided to keep him safely on the ground, mostly. At times he even had an enlisted driver and a big black car at his call.
My grandpa was a first class airplane and rocket science nerd, a steely eyed missile man, but he was also a first class klutz who couldn't be relied upon to safely pilot a bicycle across campus, or carry a cup of hot coffee across the room, let alone fly an airplane.
I rode with my grandpa in cars, and saw him ride bicycles a few times, and he was clearly a danger to himself and others. Yet he was completely oblivious to his own klutziness. Me and my siblings were much more comfortable when my grandma was driving.
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