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FAMILY
My Clueless Caretakers
Surviving the fifties was harder than has been told
I was talking to one of my daughters about how my severe astigmatism had interfered with my father trying to teach me to tell time. She broke in with a question.
“How on earth did they not know you needed glasses? Even looking at your old baby pictures, it’s obvious: there is a kid who cannot see!”
I laughed. “Well, I recently learned from my oldest sister that it’s even worse. Nobody noticed her bad eyesight until third grade, even though she had to repeat first grade because of it! How could they have gone through that with her and never noticed my problems a few years later?”
Yes, my parents were just a little unaware of their children. I’ve talked about that with both of my sisters; they get a little bit defensive and say that it was just the times, that everybody’s parents in the forties and fifties were a bit detached. I can accept that; those were simpler times. There were no seatbelts in cars, nobody thought about protective baby seats, and bike helmets were unheard of. Nobody saw the world as a dangerous place to send their kids out to play in. I wouldn’t blame my parents for those dangers.
My sisters also quickly reminded me that our parents provided many, many good…
