I’ve worn glasses since the second grade. In the 1970s, and a better part of the ’80s, the popular glasses for boys were in the aviator style and came either in metal or brown plastic frames. They broke every time I attempted any kind of sport. My thick, Coke-bottle lenses were scratched and scuffed like giant cataracts. But that embarrassment paled to the constant name-calling I endured. “Four eyes” and “Four-Eyed Freakazoid” were common, along with much more derogatory terms.

On MTV I watched Elton John dancing on the beach in his music video for I’m Still Standing. I’d grown up on Elton’s music. His record albums were like storybooks full of surreal 1970s artwork illustrating Bernie Taupin’s mysterious lyrics. Elton was on the radio, in newspapers, magazines and (most importantly) he was friends with the Muppets. He embraced his outrageous glasses, created his own identity as THE bespectacled rock star, and people celebrated him for it. I hoped that maybe one day I could embrace the things that made me different and people would accept me for who I was.

(Shown here wearing my mom’s 1970s sunglasses and pith helmet along with dad’s old military jacket.)