I recently got new glasses. And in fact, they’re the biggest glasses I’ve had since the days when I had big glasses. Since those days of broken glasses.
At Warren Elementary, the eyewear trend was, the bigger the better. While I wasn’t thrilled about having to get glasses in the first place, this shy awkward grade four kid discovered a sense of comfort behind large lenses.
My first pair of glasses were half the size of my round little face, with beige rims that matched scraggly blondish hair. They had arms that swooped down and connected to the bottom of the frame, giving the appearance of the lenses hovering over my eyes. They shielded me from the world, making me feel safe and smart. Maybe even special, in a nerdy kind of way.
I wore them all the time – at home, to school, to gym, during recess. My mom would tell me to take them off when I was playing, but I never listened. I’d wear them every day, rain or shine, riding bicycles or horses, playing tag or dodge ball.
I don’t recall when or how it happened, but one day, I broke them. Oh how I should have listened to my mother! My nine-year-old heart was as shattered as the broken glass I could no longer see through.
I was worried about telling mom, because it would probably cost money to fix them – and money was something we didn’t have. To my surprise, she was okay about it. “Don’t worry,” she said, “You can get another pair.” Really? Another pair?
That was when I first heard about something called ‘welfare’. Turns out we were so poor that my glasses were paid for by someone else. It wasn’t until years later I understood what the term meant, and came to realize that that many families needed welfare. Including mine.
I didn’t know it back then, but throughout elementary school, welfare gave my family a hand-up with dental care, food, and monthly allowance. They also gave me my first pair of glasses, and then a second pair to replace the broken ones.
Except this time, the glasses weren’t nice. The ones I had were no longer available, and since the ‘welfare selection’ was limited, I didn’t have a choice. This time I got a big ugly pair with black rims. Oh how I hated them!
After crying all the way home from the eye doctor, I got a brilliant idea. I’ll break them! After all, I broke the first pair and got new ones. So if I had more broken glasses, maybe I’ll get nicer ones. To a nine-year-old mind, the plan made perfect sense.
After a few weeks of being totally careless with them, they finally broke. I remember riding home happy on the school bus, eager to reveal the damage. I was already thinking about the trip to Winnipeg to pick out the new pair. Maybe we’d go on a Saturday, and go to Polo Park Mall, too. We’d order French fries at Kresge’s. Aaahhh, a kid could dream.
What my nine-year-old brain failed to realize was that this time, I’d only cracked the frame. The lenses were still fine. So what did my mom say? “That’s okay, we can tape those up.” Tape? Tape?? Yup, that’s what she said.
Next thing I knew, she worked some motherly magic on the cracked frame – using black tape because it would hold better. It worked like a charm. Now, there I was, with big black ugly rims sporting a big black wad of electrical tape. Suddenly, and sadly, I realized that what I had had actually been okay. I should have been grateful.
I ended up wearing those taped-up broken glasses for a long time, taking care not to break them any worse. Looking back, I must have learned a lesson from that whole experience, because I don’t recall ever breaking my glasses again. From that day forward, I took good care of my glasses. And still do.
In my adult life today, I am fortunate to own multiple pairs of glasses – and none of them are taped up. I’m proud of the fact that I bought and paid for every pair of glasses myself. The days when my family was welfare-dependent are long gone. But I’m super grateful that welfare was there when we needed it. If it wasn’t, I don’t know where my family would be today. Where I’d be today.
Canada’s social safety net allowed our single mother to provide for us, and raise us on the right path. Thanks to low-rental housing, when we moved from country living to the big city, we were able to live in a ‘good’ neighbourhood. If it wasn’t for this social support, my siblings and I wouldn’t have had the chance to one day make something of ourselves.
I have a deep appreciation for our social safety net here in Canada, because it really can give a hand-up to those who need it most. Even something simple like giving eyeglasses to a nine-year-old kid does wonders for providing a clearer outlook on life.
In more ways than one.
