Welding goggles

Last night I mentioned my trouble in coming up with a topic for the blog. When that situation arises, I do goofy things. This process sometimes kicks dormant synapsis into creative action. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. Last night I put on my dad's old welding goggles. It didn't work. My blog buddy Joe asked to see a picture of me wearing the goggles. This awakened one of my sleeping synapsis. The result follows.

My dad wore a hood when he did arc welding.  When he used an acetylene torch, he wore these goggles. For decades they've dangled on a hook in my home office. Every now and then, I'll pick them up and slip them over my head. The world is a much darker place when looking through them. The only things visible are surfaces that reflect the ambient light in the room. It's like one of those horror movies. 

The goggles give a different perspective on the familiar things around me.  I tried wearing them while I typed, that was an unproductive experiment. 

So, I usually just put them on for a few minutes and see if anything happens. The company where my dad worked, issued these goggles to him in the 1950s. He took care of his stuff. When he retired in the early 80s, his supervisor gave him his work gloves and these goggles.

Last night, I closed my eyes and held the elastic bands close to my nose. I wanted to see if a trace of him remained.  Either time had taken his scent away, or taken my ability to smell it.

Usually, the only thing that happens when I wear the goggles is that it makes me a little sad. My dad was not a yapper. When he said something, it carried weight. I didn't always listen, but I should have. 

When you're in your 30s, you can't imagine that you're parents won't always be with you. I wish I had been wiser then.  I had no idea cancer would take him so soon.  Now, all that's left are memories, old pictures,  and an old pair of welding goggles.