Bryan Kett - My Rose-Colored Glasses

 

When I was six, my parents received a concerned phone call from my kindergarten teacher. My class had been learning about colors, and every student had been assigned to write and illustrate a page for a class book titled as red as a blank. And you could fill in whatever you wanted. So, some students had made pages that said, as red as an apple or as red as a fire truck. But the page I had made said, as red as a pickle. [audience laughter] And so, my alarmed mother, a professor of biology, [audience laughter] took me to our local library, where she had reserved a private room. [audience laughter] The librarian had pulled these gigantic volumes and laid them out on the table. And on each page were a bunch of colorful dots arranged in clusters.

 

My mom asked me what number was shown inside each cluster of dots, but I couldn't see anything because I couldn't tell the difference between the dots. I couldn't differentiate between blue and purple and pink or red and green and orange. They just looked like dots to me. And I asked my mom if I practiced, if I could get better at it. And she told me no. Unfortunately, I could not, because it turned out I was colorblind, quite colorblind. And when I asked my mom if other kids, I knew, were colorblind, she said, “Probably not.” [audience laughter] “Thanks, Mom.” So, we continued to talk, and we sat there, and I just made the decision that I wanted no one at school to find out about this. And so, I created a system to help keep it a secret.

 

I learned the colors of common things and how to spell the names of those colors. So then, for example, if I had to draw, say, the sky, which I knew was blue, I just picked the crayon that was labeled blue and this system was brilliant. [audience laughter] And it worked until one day in the fourth grade, I was in art class, I was drawing a tiger. Our teacher had just put out a fresh box of crayons, but none of them were labeled Orange? No. They all had fun new names [audience laughter]. Names like Timberwolf and Tumbleweed and Razzmatazz. [audience laughter] And I started panicking because everything was different. What was happening? Who would do this? [audience laughter] Where was orange?

 

I was too scared to ask anyone for help, so I just grabbed one and I hoped I was right. And later, when I was working, my teacher walked by, saw my drawing, and said, “Well, I didn't know tigers were green.” And before I could even think of how to respond, he just looked over his glasses at me, and he said, “What are you, colorblind?” That day at school, everyone learned what I'd been hiding, and they ran with it. Over and over other kids would come up to me and say, “Oh, you're colorblind. Well, then, what color is this?” And then they would point to something, and it was a game I could not win, because even if I guessed right, they would just ask me again until I guessed wrong. This was all so everyone could get a good laugh.

 

And this was at a time when every single kid wore a multicolored neon jacket, [audience laughter] because the 90s were fun, and so the possibilities were endless. All of this followed me. In middle school, I had a hard time in geography class identifying the flags of different countries. In high school, I couldn't see the lines on the gymnasium floor while playing sports. But by the time I got to college, I made a peace with it. My friends saw it as no big deal. Yeah, my best friend Eric thought he was witty when he would tell me that if I wasn't careful, how I might become beige with envy. [audience laughter] Or that because I couldn't see purple, how I also probably couldn't even really appreciate the music of Prince. [audience laughter] And sure, yes, these jokes are funny and dumb, which really sums up Eric. [audience laughter] But, that was the worst of it.

 

Overall, my friends were cool with it. So, I created a new system for myself, and I convinced myself that I was cool with it, too. But then, in 2015, a new viral video made its way around the Internet. Maybe you've seen one like it. They're out there, everywhere but the one I first saw, a man receives a birthday gift. It's a pair of glasses designed to correct colorblindness. And he's skeptical at first, understandably so. But he puts them on, and after a moment, he just begins sobbing because for the first time in his life, he's able to see the color of his children's eyes. I was stunned.

 

I quickly found the company's website, and I was so disappointed to discover that the glasses cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars, which was way out of my price range. But then I realized that at the very least, I could just try the glasses on. And so, I called the company and I spoke with a very helpful customer sales representative named Tammy. [audience chuckle] And when Tammy told me that the next available appointment to try on the glasses wasn't for months, I let out a noise. Just a noise from deep within. Like a noise that sounded like bagpipes [audience laughter] falling down the stairs. [audience laughter] And the thing is, this must have really had an effect on Tammy [audience laughter] because there was a pause and then the clicking of a keyboard. 

 

And then she said, however, we do have a small opening tomorrow morning if you can be here by 9:00 AM. I didn't wait for her to finish. I told her I would see her then I was ecstatic. And then I looked up the company's address, only to learn that it was 360 miles north of where I lived in Los Angeles, about six hours away. And immediately I started having second thoughts. But then I looked down at what I was wearing and I wondered if my clothing matched [audience laughter] because people had always told me that it didn't. And then I started thinking about grocery shopping because I always buy bananas that are not ripe. I can never tell. And then I started wondering once again just what was apparently so special about sunsets? And suddenly I was all in.

 

I planned on leaving at three in the morning, but I couldn't sleep. So, instead I got on the road around 2:00 AM when traffic in Los Angeles is only pretty terrible. [audience laughter] And as I rattled up the coast, fueled by nerves and watery gas station coffee, I felt different, like I felt hopeful. When 6:00 AM hit, I couldn't contain my excitement anymore. And I called my best friend Eric. And when he picked up, his voice was just ragged with sleep as I said to him, “Hey, man, guess what I'm going to see later, Purple.” And then I told him everything. I told him about the glasses and about the cost and about how I was finally going to get to see what he saw. And I expected him to be overjoyed for me, but his excitement seemed lacking as he just said, “Oh, cool, good luck.” 

 

And I thought, well, did he not even really understand? So, I then called all my other friends from college and I told them the same news, but I kept getting the same sort of subdued response. And I wondered, “Did my friends not care? Or was it possible that I just never told them what this would have meant to me?” And for a moment I started to question everything, spiraling as I drove, thinking, “Well, wait, was this really that big of a deal at all?” Like, I would never be able to even afford the glasses. So, did it really matter? I'd just be getting a glimpse. But then I caught myself. No. No. No matter what anyone else thought, this was my moment. This was my moment, more than 25 years in the making, and I deserved it.

 

I mean, the grass was literally going to be greener [audience laughter] on the other side. So, I arrived at my destination early, and I went to a nearby coffee shop. And in the coffee shop, I looked at into the pastry case, and I thought, after this, will blueberry muffins look different? And I just kept staring long enough to make all of the baristas uncomfortable. And then I headed around the corner to meet Tammy. She radiated positivity. She gave me a smile that somehow showed all of her teeth. And the two of us went inside, and we walked up this winding staircase to their offices, where all these boxes and papers were stacked haphazardly from floor to ceiling. But amidst all the clutter, there in the corner was a display case. And on each tier was a pair of glasses. And they looked like sunglasses, but when they caught the light, their lenses flared a bit. 

 

And Tammy opened the case, and she removed a pair, And I reached for them, but she, ever so gently, just pushed my hand away. She slipped the glasses into a silk pouch, and she told me that we were going to go try them on outside because she, “Wanted my first time to be special.” [audience laughter] It's classic Tammy. [audience laughter] So, the two of us went behind the building, to a garden. A garden full of all these flowers in bloom, so I could see the vibrant array of pinks and purples and blues and Tammy handed me the glasses, and just trembling, I slipped them out of their pouch, and I closed my eyes, and then I put the glasses on and then I opened my eyes, and I saw nothing.

 

There was no change. There were no bursting flowers in bloom with their vibrant array of pinks and purples and blues. And I was so confused, and I asked Tammy if we could go back to the display case and get a different pair of glasses. But her demeanor changed entirely. And she told me something that was not advertised on their website. She said, “Well, it looks like you are what's known as a strong protan,” which is only like 10% of the colorblind population. And some strong protans have an impairment that's just too severe for our glasses. And so, five minutes after we got outside, Tammy thanked me for coming. She took the glasses from me, and she walked back into the building, leaving me alone in a garden, surrounded by flowers that I could only assume were really something special.

 

And that was it. I presumed it is over and just numb. And not knowing what else to do, I got back in the car with a six-hour drive ahead of me and absentmindedly I turned down the radio and Adele was on singing about heartbreak really fit the mood. And when I was at my lowest, my phone rang. It was Eric, my best friend. And I just watched his name flash on the screen over and over again as I wished that I hadn't even opened myself up to this possibility because it had made everything so much worse. And I let the phone ring a couple more times than I picked up. But before I could even speak, he did. And he said, “Hey man, I want to hear what you think about purple. But first, I've got a surprise for you.”

 

After you called all of us so very early on your drive up today, we all talked and we are all going to chip in and we are going to buy you the glasses.  And hearing that, everything just came pouring out of me because none of my friends had a lot of money. And after I told Eric everything that had happened, there was no snide comment. He just said, “I'm so sorry. Let us know however we can help.” And I thanked him. We hung up and I drove home.

 

Over the next few days, I thought a lot about this and about how much it surprised me. There was the experience itself. There was my friend's generosity. But I think what surprised me the most was how much I wanted this.  How much I wanted to see color. I had never admitted that to myself before and acknowledging that is scary. And today I have a lot of questions that I'm still trying to answer. Was all of this worth the heartache? I don't know. Will there be technological advancements in the future? Maybe. And if there are, will I have the courage to try them? I hope so. Thanks.