On Tuesday, I met a man whose name, for the purposes of this blog, will be Jim. Jim and I had seen each other in passing many times, but we'd never been formally introduced, and on Tuesday afternoon we officially met, shook hands, he asked where my accent was from, the whole deal.
Yes, people always ask where my accent is from. No, they never guess right. Yes, they always think I'm Canadian.
Anyway, Jim and I both volunteer with Vote For Equality, and have been doing so since before the election. He's probably about 70-75 years old, and he does every kind of office work we have at VFE, always with a smile. That's about the limit of what I knew of Jim until Tuesday.
That night, we both were at the big rally protesting the California Supreme Court's expected reprehensible decision. I was there sans glasses, as only one temple (that's the arm-like bit) was still attached, and I felt that the middle of a large mob of people milling about on pavement was a very bad place to have precariously-perched eyewear. Jim asked me about my glasses; I explained that they had self-destructed, and he offered to let me try his. Miraculously, the prescription was close enough to mine to (mostly) function! I, of course, declined to steal the glasses off his face, but instead wandered fairly blindly around the rally.
Today, after a trip to the optometrist (my glasses remain in the care of Specs Appeal), a wild bus detour around Obama's unexpectedly-blocking-major-roads security detail, and a day at school, I went back to VFE. What did I find awaiting me? A bag of six pairs of Jim's spare glasses.
I met him yesterday, and he's giving me glasses. This is why I love the people I meet in Los Angeles.
Oh, one more thing. They look like this.