Dr. Phillipe Charlier is the most famous forensic scientist in France, where, apparently, they have a most famous forensic scientist. Dr. Charlier came to prominence in 2007, when he led a team of researchers in an investigation of bone fragments said to belong to Jeanne d'Arc, which is French for Jeannie Dark, which is often translated in English as Joan of Arc. The team exposed the relics as fakes, consisting not of the remains of a psychotic French teenager but of "a human rib, bits of apparently carbonized wood, a fragment of linen and a cat femur."
Has anyone considered that the human rib may, in fact, have belonged to Joan of Arc and that she was eaten by a cat? Or that Joan of Arc may simply have been a cat herself? Really, that story would make a helluva lot more sense than the other one about some adolescent hearing the voice of God and leading French armies to victory.
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Tomorrow, Andy Murray becomes the first Briton in 73 years to compete for the men's championship at Wimbledon. In order to become the first Brit to win Wimbledon since 1936, all he has to do is defeat the six-time champion and arguably greatest player in history, Roger Federer. All of England will be watching. No pressure, though.
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Today, on my way to the supermarket, I passed a martial arts studio. The doors were open and from within, blasting from the stereo as the assembled students practiced, was "Eye of the Tiger." Do people have no sense of irony?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Some States Left Behind
The Obama administration has granted waivers of the federal "No Child Left Behind" law to more than half the states. While critics will charge that this is yet another example of President Obama's unconstitutional overreach--as when he unilaterally decided not to prioritize the deportation of law-abiding college students--these waivers make sense, if for no other reason than that the requirements of the law itself are ridiculous.
NCLB mandates that all schools in all states make all students proficient in reading and mathematics by 2014. An admirable goal, to be sure, but utterly unattainable unless we redefine "proficient in reading and mathematics" to mean something like "breathing." I am unsure any civilization in the history of ever has boasted 100% proficiency among its children in anything.
I actually applaud the federal government's involvement in education. As much as people clamor for local control, it makes no sense that the US, essentially alone among developed (and undeveloped) countries, has no coherent national educational policy. No one can seriously claim that a child in Mississippi has significantly different educational needs than one in Maine.
Of course national standards lead to a reliance on standardized tests, which has its own problems. And we'll discuss the best way to measure school outcomes later. For now, though, suffice to say that any legislation mandating 100% success is, pretty much by definition, doomed to failure.
Tell you what: When congressmen achieve 100% elimination of poverty among the citizenry, I will agree to achieve 100% educational proficiency among my students.
NCLB mandates that all schools in all states make all students proficient in reading and mathematics by 2014. An admirable goal, to be sure, but utterly unattainable unless we redefine "proficient in reading and mathematics" to mean something like "breathing." I am unsure any civilization in the history of ever has boasted 100% proficiency among its children in anything.
I actually applaud the federal government's involvement in education. As much as people clamor for local control, it makes no sense that the US, essentially alone among developed (and undeveloped) countries, has no coherent national educational policy. No one can seriously claim that a child in Mississippi has significantly different educational needs than one in Maine.
Of course national standards lead to a reliance on standardized tests, which has its own problems. And we'll discuss the best way to measure school outcomes later. For now, though, suffice to say that any legislation mandating 100% success is, pretty much by definition, doomed to failure.
Tell you what: When congressmen achieve 100% elimination of poverty among the citizenry, I will agree to achieve 100% educational proficiency among my students.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
In Case You Missed It. . .
In what I suppose is a piece of good news, the FDA has approved the first at-home HIV test. The idea for a home AIDS test has been around for almost as long as the disease itself. Development, however, was hindered for a number of reasons, one of which was a fear of increased suicides among people who discovered they were HIV positive, an AIDS diagnosis being the equivalent of a death sentence in the early days of the pandemic. Now, with the advances in medicine that have been made over the last 30 years, AIDS, while still frightening of course, has become something of a manageable, chronic disease. This reduction in the fear factor, combined with the relative simplicity of the new test--a cheek swab that provides results in 20 to 40 minutes--makes the FDA's decision look fairly common-sensical.
The fact that people will soon be able to check their own HIV status easily in the privacy of their own homes is all to the good. What's disturbing--or, at least, depressing--is the fact that some 30 years after AIDS first entered public consciousness, scientists have still not found a cure, and the disease, while perhaps not as terrifying as it once was, has become such a commonplace fixture in our society that we can buy AIDS tests as easily--and in the same place--as pregnancy tests or Doritos.
One other thing: Oraquick, the manufacturer of the new AIDS test, plans to charge slightly more than $17.50--the price charged to medical professionals--for the home test. Well, Oraquick is a for-profit company, and they do plan to use the money to fund things like a 24-hour counseling hotline. But of course some of the increased cost will come from the fact that the company needs to advertise the product. As for the prospective markets, the company plans to market to "high-risk groups, including gay men, blacks and Hispanics, and sexually-active adults."
Umm. . . Isn't that pretty much everybody? Unless the plan is to market to gay men, blacks, and Hispanics who aren't sexually active. Which would seem somewhat pointless, although it does suggest a vast untapped market for AIDS-related merchandise.
************************************************
Apropos of nothing, I just got a kick out of this:
At San Diego's massive "Big Bay Boom" fireworks display yesterday, an apparent computer glitch caused the entire supply of fireworks to go off at once, reducing an 18-minute show to about 15 seconds. I have no joke to go with that, I just thought it was hysterical.
The fact that people will soon be able to check their own HIV status easily in the privacy of their own homes is all to the good. What's disturbing--or, at least, depressing--is the fact that some 30 years after AIDS first entered public consciousness, scientists have still not found a cure, and the disease, while perhaps not as terrifying as it once was, has become such a commonplace fixture in our society that we can buy AIDS tests as easily--and in the same place--as pregnancy tests or Doritos.
One other thing: Oraquick, the manufacturer of the new AIDS test, plans to charge slightly more than $17.50--the price charged to medical professionals--for the home test. Well, Oraquick is a for-profit company, and they do plan to use the money to fund things like a 24-hour counseling hotline. But of course some of the increased cost will come from the fact that the company needs to advertise the product. As for the prospective markets, the company plans to market to "high-risk groups, including gay men, blacks and Hispanics, and sexually-active adults."
Umm. . . Isn't that pretty much everybody? Unless the plan is to market to gay men, blacks, and Hispanics who aren't sexually active. Which would seem somewhat pointless, although it does suggest a vast untapped market for AIDS-related merchandise.
************************************************
Apropos of nothing, I just got a kick out of this:
At San Diego's massive "Big Bay Boom" fireworks display yesterday, an apparent computer glitch caused the entire supply of fireworks to go off at once, reducing an 18-minute show to about 15 seconds. I have no joke to go with that, I just thought it was hysterical.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Kaddish
The memories are hazy, but it was probably in second or third grade. One day, FOS was extremely upset--verge of tears kind of thing. It was towards the end of the day, and FOS was filled with dread: "You're not going to see me tomorrow," he said. "My Mom's going to KILL me. And so this is it! Ohhhh. . . ." His sin? Losing the box of crayons his mother had just bought him.
In his defense, this was one of those really nice boxes of crayons--the kind with the built-in sharpener. Still, it did seem a bit of an extreme reaction. As you might imagine, FOS's mother did not kill him for his transgression. As I say, the memories are hazy, but I would even go out on a limb and say that FOS soon had a new box of crayons to lose.
At this point, I had not yet met FOS's mom. When I did meet her, she hardly struck me as the sort who would commit filicide over lost crayons. For one thing, she was quite friendly. For another, she gave me iced tea! Now, my own mother made iced tea all the time: lemon-flavored, unsweetened. But at FOS's home, the iced tea was sweet! I had never tasted such nectar! Furthermore, FOS's mother took pride in preparing and serving what I can only describe as food! Don't get me wrong: My mother cooked, too, but it was never something she took much interest in. FOS's mother, on the other hand, took great pride in the care and feeding of her family--and any schoolmates whom said family happened to bring over.
One thing I can honestly say is that, growing up, FOS was never in danger of going hungry. It was a challenge to leave the house without being fed:
"Mom, we're going out to the comic book store."
"OK, you want an apple to take with you?"
"No, thanks."
"You sure you don't want an apple? How about a banana?"
"No, I don't want a banana."
"Maybe you should take a banana."
"I don't want a banana!"
"Take a banana! Or a cookie? I have macaroons."
"I don't want a macaroon!"
Eventually, we'd get out of the apartment, FOS more likely than not stuffing an apple, banana, and or macaroon into his coat pockets.
One day, our class went on a field trip to Washington, DC. It was very exciting, taking a plane to go on a school trip. The trip was more or less a disaster: We left late and had very little time in the Capitol. Worse still, though, was the trip back. Our shuttle was extremely late, and then we ended up having to circle LaGuardia for about an hour before we could land. Finally, we made it to the terminal, where all the parents were waiting to pick us up. FOS's mother was glad to see him. How glad? You would think he had just come back from Beirut. I have to admit: I felt a bit disappointed that my own mother didn't make such a fuss over me.
Children can't help but compare their friends' parents to their own. Sometimes one's own parents suffer in comparison, sometimes they shine. Most children would never trade their own mothers and fathers for those of their friends, but these surrogate parents can't help but be formative elements in any child's development. They teach us about other ways of living, other ways of being. They teach us that iced tea can be sweet. And for that we are eternally grateful.
In his defense, this was one of those really nice boxes of crayons--the kind with the built-in sharpener. Still, it did seem a bit of an extreme reaction. As you might imagine, FOS's mother did not kill him for his transgression. As I say, the memories are hazy, but I would even go out on a limb and say that FOS soon had a new box of crayons to lose.
At this point, I had not yet met FOS's mom. When I did meet her, she hardly struck me as the sort who would commit filicide over lost crayons. For one thing, she was quite friendly. For another, she gave me iced tea! Now, my own mother made iced tea all the time: lemon-flavored, unsweetened. But at FOS's home, the iced tea was sweet! I had never tasted such nectar! Furthermore, FOS's mother took pride in preparing and serving what I can only describe as food! Don't get me wrong: My mother cooked, too, but it was never something she took much interest in. FOS's mother, on the other hand, took great pride in the care and feeding of her family--and any schoolmates whom said family happened to bring over.
One thing I can honestly say is that, growing up, FOS was never in danger of going hungry. It was a challenge to leave the house without being fed:
"Mom, we're going out to the comic book store."
"OK, you want an apple to take with you?"
"No, thanks."
"You sure you don't want an apple? How about a banana?"
"No, I don't want a banana."
"Maybe you should take a banana."
"I don't want a banana!"
"Take a banana! Or a cookie? I have macaroons."
"I don't want a macaroon!"
Eventually, we'd get out of the apartment, FOS more likely than not stuffing an apple, banana, and or macaroon into his coat pockets.
One day, our class went on a field trip to Washington, DC. It was very exciting, taking a plane to go on a school trip. The trip was more or less a disaster: We left late and had very little time in the Capitol. Worse still, though, was the trip back. Our shuttle was extremely late, and then we ended up having to circle LaGuardia for about an hour before we could land. Finally, we made it to the terminal, where all the parents were waiting to pick us up. FOS's mother was glad to see him. How glad? You would think he had just come back from Beirut. I have to admit: I felt a bit disappointed that my own mother didn't make such a fuss over me.
Children can't help but compare their friends' parents to their own. Sometimes one's own parents suffer in comparison, sometimes they shine. Most children would never trade their own mothers and fathers for those of their friends, but these surrogate parents can't help but be formative elements in any child's development. They teach us about other ways of living, other ways of being. They teach us that iced tea can be sweet. And for that we are eternally grateful.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
It's Australian for 'Hamana-Hamana-Hamana"
I'm a bit tuckered out from yesterday's discourse on "Anonymous," so I have not much to say today, except this:
An Australian hooligan (redundancy?) is lighting up the internet after brazenly holding up a convenience store. This is primarily because the robber was (A) foolish enough to let her face be captured on the store's security camera and (B) has a set of bahoogies that might make Dolly Parton feel inadequate.
All of which is to say, Australia is awesome. See you tomorrow.
An Australian hooligan (redundancy?) is lighting up the internet after brazenly holding up a convenience store. This is primarily because the robber was (A) foolish enough to let her face be captured on the store's security camera and (B) has a set of bahoogies that might make Dolly Parton feel inadequate.
All of which is to say, Australia is awesome. See you tomorrow.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Where There's a Will, There's an Ed
"Anonymous" (2011) tells the story of Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford, whom most people consider the likeliest author of the plays of William Shakespeare. Well, unless you're one of those benighted people who actually believes William Shakespeare wrote the plays.
As you probably know, the "true identity" of William Shakespeare--or "William Shakespeare"--has occupied a certain subset of scholars for at least the last 700 years. Which is surprising, as Shakespeare's plays were only written some 400 years ago. The "mystery" for those who question the plays' authorship revolves around the question of how an actor with little formal education--"small Latin and less Greek," in Ben Jonson's memorable phrase--could possibly have composed the plays, sonnets, and other writings universally acclaimed as the greatest body of work in English literature. In addition to de Vere, other possible Shakespeares have included Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe (who at least was a playwright, which qualification I think allowed him to be played by Rupert Everett in an earlier movie, which, I suppose, is something), Sir Francis Drake, Queen Elizabeth, Cervantes (I am not making this up), and others.
For what it's worth, I think (A) William Shakespeare wrote the plays of William Shakespeare, and (B) it ultimately doesn't matter. The important fact is that the plays exist, regardless of who actually wrote them: It's not like anyone's around to collect royalties. But as I watched this movie, I found myself getting more and more annoyed. And I'm not sure my annoyance was simply a response to a mediocre film.
And it is mediocre. And quite pedantic. Not surprising, really, considering it was directed by Roland Emmerich: The man made an alien invasion pedantic! (Come to think of it, Bill Pullman's speech in "Independence Day" (1996) was reminiscent of "St. Crispin Day" in Henry V. Maybe Shakespeare's plays were actually written by Roland Emmerich! Or Bill Pullman? Anywho. . . .)
The movie portrays Edward de Vere (Rhys Ifans) as a true Renaissance man--and not just because he was a man in the, um, Renaissance. According to the film, de Vere was a statesman, a royal confidante (more on this later), and an adventurer who spoke every language in the world and dashed off the Shakespearean canon in his spare time. Indeed, the Earl of Oxford had barely reached puberty by the time he had completed A Midsummer Night's Dream, which he presented in a private performance for the queen (in which he, of course, played Puck). Furthermore--again, according to the film--Edward was also the secret lover and illegitimate son (eww) of Queen Elizabeth I. It's OK, though, 'cause neither of them knew about their mother-son relationship when they hooked up.
Yeah, OK, it's still "eww."
Meanwhile, the actual William Shakespeare (Rafe Spall) is not only NOT a gifted playwright; he's an illiterate, boorish blackmailer, who was also behind the murder of Christopher Marlowe.
Not that de Vere is perfect. For one thing, he insists on writing poetry! Which is just not done! At least, not in the Puritan home in which he is brought up. Poetry and plays, you see, are the works of Satan, and no good will come of them. As if we needed any further proof of drama's satanic nature, the rebellious de Vere, in a fit of passion, actually stabs someone who was spying on him while he was writing. Stabs him through a curtain! So. . . that's where that came from.
The film makes a point of showing us how incidents in Edward's life inspired famous moments in Shakespeare's plays: Richard III is conceived as a hunchback as a slap at Edward's tormentor William Cecil; Romeo and Juliet's meeting at a masquerade echoes the evening of Edward's first dalliance with the Virgin (as if) Queen. You get the point, though: Edward had to have written Shakespeare's plays, 'cause the plays correspond to events in Edward's life. This, by the way, is the "evidence" offered by those who support de Vere's Shakespearean credentials: "How," they ask, "could William Shakespeare have written so accurately about life at Court, for example, without having been a nobleman himself?"
It's a fair question. Writers tend to write about what they know; and, similarly, they cannot write about something they know nothing of. Thus, since Shakespeare was presumably not a regular attendee of Court functions, there is no possible way he could have written accurately about such functions! Well, unless of course he asked somebody. Had research and/or the personal interview not been invented in the 16th century?
Anyway, back to the movie. One of the big problems with the film is that, ultimately, we are left with no plausible reason why Edward de Vere would not claim authorship of the plays. Yes, while growing up, de Vere was, as mentioned above, in a Puritan household that frowned on poetry. But that wasn't enough to keep him from writing, which suggests he had no particular belief in the whole poetry-is-satanic-and-will-lead-to-my-eternal-damnation argument. And even if we assume the theater is disreputable--as, indeed, we can hardly argue with--this wouldn't seem to be enough to keep Oxford from revealing his authorship. How disreputable could theater have been if the Queen herself was an ardent enthusiast?
None of this, though, explains my ultimate annoyance with the film. Here's what did:
In addition to the secret authorship story, the film also delves into Elizabethan politics, specifically the question of who would succeed to the throne upon the death of the childless (unless we count the illegitimate son born from the incestuous liaison with Oxford--have I mentioned, eww---but since no one can know of this bastard, it's a moot point--never mind). Elizabeth plans to hand the throne to King James of Scotland. This does not sit well with Edward de Vere, who wants to see the crown passed to the Earl of Essex--keeping England English, if you will. Of course, he fails, and James--who is portrayed as an effeminate fop--becomes king.
So, let me see if I can articulate this properly: This film serves as a mouthpiece for those who would challenge the legitimate claims to authority of a great and gifted man. Why? Because, to the defenders of the status quo, his claims to fame, to prestige, to esteem simply can not be true. How could this lowly son of a glover possess the intellect, the skill, the unearthly gifts that would allow him to scale the highest of heights? It's not possible! That would be like the mixed-race son of a Kenyan economist and a Kansas farmgirl becoming President of the United States! Someone must be lying about something!
Reading too much into things? Maybe, but throw in the political plot--the idea that a vote "against" de Vere is effectively a vote against England--and the movie really starts to look like a piece of Birther propaganda. If we don't defend our true cultural patrimony, the barbarians--the effete, lisping barbarians--will seize the Capitol before we know it.
As you probably know, the "true identity" of William Shakespeare--or "William Shakespeare"--has occupied a certain subset of scholars for at least the last 700 years. Which is surprising, as Shakespeare's plays were only written some 400 years ago. The "mystery" for those who question the plays' authorship revolves around the question of how an actor with little formal education--"small Latin and less Greek," in Ben Jonson's memorable phrase--could possibly have composed the plays, sonnets, and other writings universally acclaimed as the greatest body of work in English literature. In addition to de Vere, other possible Shakespeares have included Francis Bacon, Christopher Marlowe (who at least was a playwright, which qualification I think allowed him to be played by Rupert Everett in an earlier movie, which, I suppose, is something), Sir Francis Drake, Queen Elizabeth, Cervantes (I am not making this up), and others.
For what it's worth, I think (A) William Shakespeare wrote the plays of William Shakespeare, and (B) it ultimately doesn't matter. The important fact is that the plays exist, regardless of who actually wrote them: It's not like anyone's around to collect royalties. But as I watched this movie, I found myself getting more and more annoyed. And I'm not sure my annoyance was simply a response to a mediocre film.
And it is mediocre. And quite pedantic. Not surprising, really, considering it was directed by Roland Emmerich: The man made an alien invasion pedantic! (Come to think of it, Bill Pullman's speech in "Independence Day" (1996) was reminiscent of "St. Crispin Day" in Henry V. Maybe Shakespeare's plays were actually written by Roland Emmerich! Or Bill Pullman? Anywho. . . .)
The movie portrays Edward de Vere (Rhys Ifans) as a true Renaissance man--and not just because he was a man in the, um, Renaissance. According to the film, de Vere was a statesman, a royal confidante (more on this later), and an adventurer who spoke every language in the world and dashed off the Shakespearean canon in his spare time. Indeed, the Earl of Oxford had barely reached puberty by the time he had completed A Midsummer Night's Dream, which he presented in a private performance for the queen (in which he, of course, played Puck). Furthermore--again, according to the film--Edward was also the secret lover and illegitimate son (eww) of Queen Elizabeth I. It's OK, though, 'cause neither of them knew about their mother-son relationship when they hooked up.
Yeah, OK, it's still "eww."
Meanwhile, the actual William Shakespeare (Rafe Spall) is not only NOT a gifted playwright; he's an illiterate, boorish blackmailer, who was also behind the murder of Christopher Marlowe.
Not that de Vere is perfect. For one thing, he insists on writing poetry! Which is just not done! At least, not in the Puritan home in which he is brought up. Poetry and plays, you see, are the works of Satan, and no good will come of them. As if we needed any further proof of drama's satanic nature, the rebellious de Vere, in a fit of passion, actually stabs someone who was spying on him while he was writing. Stabs him through a curtain! So. . . that's where that came from.
The film makes a point of showing us how incidents in Edward's life inspired famous moments in Shakespeare's plays: Richard III is conceived as a hunchback as a slap at Edward's tormentor William Cecil; Romeo and Juliet's meeting at a masquerade echoes the evening of Edward's first dalliance with the Virgin (as if) Queen. You get the point, though: Edward had to have written Shakespeare's plays, 'cause the plays correspond to events in Edward's life. This, by the way, is the "evidence" offered by those who support de Vere's Shakespearean credentials: "How," they ask, "could William Shakespeare have written so accurately about life at Court, for example, without having been a nobleman himself?"
It's a fair question. Writers tend to write about what they know; and, similarly, they cannot write about something they know nothing of. Thus, since Shakespeare was presumably not a regular attendee of Court functions, there is no possible way he could have written accurately about such functions! Well, unless of course he asked somebody. Had research and/or the personal interview not been invented in the 16th century?
Anyway, back to the movie. One of the big problems with the film is that, ultimately, we are left with no plausible reason why Edward de Vere would not claim authorship of the plays. Yes, while growing up, de Vere was, as mentioned above, in a Puritan household that frowned on poetry. But that wasn't enough to keep him from writing, which suggests he had no particular belief in the whole poetry-is-satanic-and-will-lead-to-my-eternal-damnation argument. And even if we assume the theater is disreputable--as, indeed, we can hardly argue with--this wouldn't seem to be enough to keep Oxford from revealing his authorship. How disreputable could theater have been if the Queen herself was an ardent enthusiast?
None of this, though, explains my ultimate annoyance with the film. Here's what did:
In addition to the secret authorship story, the film also delves into Elizabethan politics, specifically the question of who would succeed to the throne upon the death of the childless (unless we count the illegitimate son born from the incestuous liaison with Oxford--have I mentioned, eww---but since no one can know of this bastard, it's a moot point--never mind). Elizabeth plans to hand the throne to King James of Scotland. This does not sit well with Edward de Vere, who wants to see the crown passed to the Earl of Essex--keeping England English, if you will. Of course, he fails, and James--who is portrayed as an effeminate fop--becomes king.
So, let me see if I can articulate this properly: This film serves as a mouthpiece for those who would challenge the legitimate claims to authority of a great and gifted man. Why? Because, to the defenders of the status quo, his claims to fame, to prestige, to esteem simply can not be true. How could this lowly son of a glover possess the intellect, the skill, the unearthly gifts that would allow him to scale the highest of heights? It's not possible! That would be like the mixed-race son of a Kenyan economist and a Kansas farmgirl becoming President of the United States! Someone must be lying about something!
Reading too much into things? Maybe, but throw in the political plot--the idea that a vote "against" de Vere is effectively a vote against England--and the movie really starts to look like a piece of Birther propaganda. If we don't defend our true cultural patrimony, the barbarians--the effete, lisping barbarians--will seize the Capitol before we know it.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
New Viewpiint
I got new glasses yestwrday. They're pretty stylish, I thimk: Banana Republic, steel framed, o[en on the bottom. Basically rectangular, but anglrd slightly upward in a sort of insectlike shape. They're the kund of glasses I like to think Bono would choose if he were on a budgey.
More significantly, they're bifocals--or "progressives" in what I;ve come to understand is the preferred technical term. When I saw the optonetrist, he told me that I didn't need a new prescription, but it was time--if I decided to go for it--to get my first set of bifpcals. He demonstrated how reading, for example, would be a bit easier with progtessive lenses.
I had to think about it. I wasn't really sure what the best stratefy would be: Get bifocals now and start using them before I really needed them, or wait until my need could no longer be dwnied? I opted for the former. Why fught nature?
I felt a bit nervous, too, about how much trouble I would have asjusting. When I sat down at the eyeglass store yesterday to try on the new specs, the clerk ezplained that it would take two to three weeks to get used to the new glasses. But, honestlu, I couldn't really see that much of a difference. The clerk explained that there had been signigicant improvenents in progressives: Previously, wearers would experience a tremendoys shift in their vision as their eyeline moved from one "lens" to the other. Nowadays, the shift is much more suvtle.
I'm sure I'll have no troyble adhusting.
More significantly, they're bifocals--or "progressives" in what I;ve come to understand is the preferred technical term. When I saw the optonetrist, he told me that I didn't need a new prescription, but it was time--if I decided to go for it--to get my first set of bifpcals. He demonstrated how reading, for example, would be a bit easier with progtessive lenses.
I had to think about it. I wasn't really sure what the best stratefy would be: Get bifocals now and start using them before I really needed them, or wait until my need could no longer be dwnied? I opted for the former. Why fught nature?
I felt a bit nervous, too, about how much trouble I would have asjusting. When I sat down at the eyeglass store yesterday to try on the new specs, the clerk ezplained that it would take two to three weeks to get used to the new glasses. But, honestlu, I couldn't really see that much of a difference. The clerk explained that there had been signigicant improvenents in progressives: Previously, wearers would experience a tremendoys shift in their vision as their eyeline moved from one "lens" to the other. Nowadays, the shift is much more suvtle.
I'm sure I'll have no troyble adhusting.
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