I can see clearly now

I was in fourth grade when fate joined me with prescription glasses.

I was sitting in the last row of the classroom, as far from the blackboard and teacher as possible. This wasn’t necessarily my choice; although I tend to be a backbencher by nature, the fact that my last name begins with “W” generally resulted in a spot in the back of every classroom with my bottom-of-the-alphabet compadres.

(I would imagine, what with all of the political correctness these days, the “Ws” are no longer exclusively relegated to the back of the class. But I digress …)

Something new was in the works that day: A class project was on the pull-down screen in front of the blackboard, and the teacher took turns ensuring we were engaged/awake by randomly calling on us to read portions of the assignment.

Reading wasn’t a problem for me, as you can probably imagine from my line of work, and soon it was my turn. Immediately, I began stumbling over one word after another.

First, I was frustrated. Then I was embarrassed. Then I was silent.

Maybe the teacher saw me squinting. Maybe she had a hunch. But in what presumably was an attempt to help, she methodically moved me up one seat in the row, and then another, and then another, as I continued to stumble over the words.

Now, I have to admit that by the time I was temporarily seated in the front row having displaced four or five chuckling classmates along the way — my reading difficulty was more a function of water in my eyes than my inability to see the screen.

Regardless, the teacher sent home a note suggesting my parents have my eyesight checked out.

Soon thereafter, I was selecting my first set of prescription glasses from among the five or so “youth” options available at Duling Optical in Detroit Lakes, Minn. Those black horn-rimmed beauties went through a lot with me — touch football games, Little League baseball, my first (and last) junior high dance, lots of good and some less-than-good grades, and the usual other collection of school-age fun.

I’ve worn glasses every day since, with 12 or so months off for contacts my first year in college — I wanted to make a good impression, I suppose, as if wearing glasses was really a life-changing negative.

It turned out the original “hard” contacts, combined with the wind and cold of Chicago mornings, just weren’t for me.

Every five or so years since, I’ve wound up with either a new set of frames, lenses or — pocketbook willing — both.

And that’s a long-winded way of explaining why my column picture looks different today. Maybe you noticed; maybe you didn’t.

The photo needed to be changed anyway. A few months ago, someone recognized me in a restaurant and suggested I didn’t look like myself.

“Your hair looks a lot whiter in person than it is in the magazine,” she told me, simply stating the obvious.

So now I will gaze out at you with whiter hair, a lighter beard and a new set of glasses.

I can see a lot better with these glasses, too, so it should be easier for me to connect with you now that I’ll be able to see more clearly if you’re wearing glasses or not.

To see The progression of rick Wamre’s frame fashion since elementary, visit prestonhollow.advocatemag.com and search: glasses

Rick Wamre is president of Advocate Media. Let him know how we are doing by writing to 6301 Gaston, Suite 820, Dallas 75214; or email rwamre@advocatemag.com.

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Comments are in response to a story we published with Dealey Montessori’s tennis coach and activist about his comic book in our February magazine.

“James Disco: It’s refreshing to see someone take such an active role in not only teaching kids tennis, but also lifelong lessons. I look forward to reading the new book. Thank you for your inspiration, your hard work and your endeavors.”

—Katherine Calabria

by Mike Shoupe

“This sounds like an incredible journey not only for the lost boys, but also the author! I also look forward to reading this book. I am simply amazed by what these children had to do to survive.” —Susan

Hundley

“Thank you, coach James, for being a person of integrity, an activist and wonderful coach, teaching our children at Dealey Tennis. Your hard work, your passion, your patience make a difference in many areas of our community and families. Thank you for having a vision and for being who you are. Your kindness is very much appreciated!”

—Dealey Family

“Wasn’t the ice house there first?”

James Davenport on facebook.com/ prestonhollowadvocate , in response to a story about Park Towers’ homeowners association taking their complaints about Katy Trail Ice House to the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission

From practically nothing to go on, cpl. David Bates started the renowned Leadership cadet Program at T.c. Marsh in ‘98 after a school principal, whose flat tires he changed on the side of the road, offered him a job. Bates later rallied the support of neighbors and built a military museum on campus. Now he’s done a little something for himself and his own family, and subsequently for an audience of readers, in writing his memoir, “Narrow It Down.” The book is for teachers, leaders and anyone who needs to cut out some of the excuses in their lives and start achieving greatness.

What inspired “Narrow It Down”?

My father died before I got to know him as a man, and vice versa. So I thought in case something happened to me, I should leave something so my daughter would know who I am.

Did your father die recently?

No, he died when I was a young man.

When I got the idea to write the book, I had been coming home late from work a lot, and by the time I got there, my daughter was already in bed. I thought I was missing a lot of her growing up. I started out writing a memoir, and then it turned into my philosophy and advice for the masses. I put it together and sent it somewhere, and someone said, ‘It’s pretty good; we’ll put a cover on it.’

And the next thing you know, it was available on Amazon.

When does one turn into a “man”? When did you decide that for yourself and think your thoughts were worth sharing in a book?

When you’re a teenager you think you know everything. You think, ‘I’m a man now.’ You see your father as this guy who is always telling you what not to do. You don’t realize what your father is. You don’t realize it until you get the experience of college, the military or become a parent yourself. When can you say you are a man yourself? Post college and a year or two into the workforce. When you’re paying the bills. [Laughs]

How long were you in the military?

Three years and 17 weeks. I was a mortarman in the Airborne Infantry. I trained to kill people. I’m not saying I did; I’m just saying that was my job.

Did you become serious about things after joining the military? Years after. In the military, you do what you’re told. You go out and about to places that are different from what you know. It wasn’t until I was working with children that I started thinking about the future —the future of the country, but I focus on my area. I have a hand in the area of education in the state of Texas. I met with guys from Guam and Saipan to talk to them about how I teach. They found my teachings online through my book.

Is “Narrow it Down” aimed at educators working with students?

It’s for everybody. There is a chapter called ‘No Excuses’ about how we can do anything we want. I learned a long time ago my first sergeant didn’t care what my excuse was. All he cared about was that there was no excuse. I took that and learned from that.