ROSE-COLORED GLASSES

Do you know where yours are?

I’d gotten used to not having them, not using them, not relying on them, and then stumbled across my only pair the other day, scratched and forgotten, dusty, deserted, with flecks of epoxy marring the mirrored surfaces.

I reminisced briefly about how these came to be mine, cheap, splashy pink metallic frames and those powerful, magical lenses I won at a Breast Cancer Awareness fundraiser with some of my favorite people on the planet, four of whom are survivors. That cause has woven its way through my entire life. We had heavy hearts back then, too, as Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP) forced my father into nursing home care. Here the two of us are definitely enjoying a rosy, sunny moment outside, he in my hat and me in my hard-won glasses.

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I felt a distinct twinge of regret at their condition. I was surprised, frankly, that I had pulled them out and used them for safety glasses on a dirty boatyard project instead of keeping these symbols of strength tucked away with the memories they held. Sometimes we disregard the importance of those connections to our past and it bothered me enough to think it was almost disrespectful. Was it? Or did they resurface just when I needed them instead of being tucked away in some drawer for safekeeping? I believe in the weirdness of things like that. I truly do.

After wiping away layers of construction detritus with the cleanest dirty rag I could find, I slid them on to discover that the right earpiece was askew, in a couple of directions. With some gentle persuasion they stayed perched on my ample nose and I peered out into the sunshine beyond the tool shed, beyond the scratches. Pretty glorious stuff all on its own and now, a shade better, even, than it had been. Maybe more than one shade. Brighter, with a touch more joy, perhaps.

The perspective was startling. I mean, it’s a marked difference, rose colored-glasses. You cannot pretend that you don’t see the joy, that your day is just going to continue on in its grumbling inability to make you happy. This pair of inexpensive, priceless, optics lightens my load, every time.

Sometimes I peer above them to see the real tint of the world, but that can be disappointing. Other times I disregard them altogether, but I can assure you that this was the perfect week to rediscover the tinted point of view I had both underestimated and missed. I don’t think any of us always remember that we may have a rosier option. ~J

Let me know if you find your pair, if you already had them on or if you’re still on the fence about utilizing such an tool.

STEADFAST’s tremendous path has taken us to THE BRONZE AGE, I think I’ve promised the sharing of those amazing pictures and this transformation for a few weeks now. Since EVERYTHING else has taken months longer than I anticipated, I’m wagering that not one of you is surprised that our new anchor system is darn near installed, but not quite…

If you’re not sure launch is imminent, take a look at this: We’re close.

Custom vinyl application makes me think we must be almost done...

If you think my ROSE COLORED GLASSES are worth sharing, do that please. And then hit that restack button, wouldya? It helps other interesting folks find our Secret Sparring Society.

Thanks!

Any interest in learning why Breast Cancer is such an important cause for me? Not too surprisingly, there is loss involved…and heredity which I hope I ended. wrote my first-ever book about my preventive double mastectomy & THE NEW GIRLS“THE NEW GIRLS” which is what I call my now cancer-resistant breasts.

The second memoir I penned was about the days I picture here with my dad, in his wheelchair, making sure we got out to enjoy Mother Nature every moment that we could. SAY WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID seemed like the best title, and it stuck. It’s about living life without regret, which I hope I have done. Now, put those glasses on and GET OUTSIDE! Cheers. ~J

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