Wednesday, August 13, 2008


My father is colorblind. He had trouble discerning the differences between red and green. As he was an artististic man, I would assume this condition was a cross to bear, but he never complained. He was a great sketcher, and did excellent charcoal or pencil drawings.

He gave me these sketches he made in later years.

His lettering was also the thing of legends. He was asked to make signs and posters galore in his prime. His color blindness was genetic, so as his daughter the carrier X chromosome was passed on to me, but fortunately, my son was unaffected.

I love color and have always loved rainbows, stained glass windows, flower gardens, gemstones, and the satisfaction a new box of 64 Crayolas gave me! But lately I am experiencing a kind of color blindness every time I sit in front of the computer. My monitor is rather old, and the color red looks black most of the time. Every once in a while the true colors come back on and I can even play a game of Solitaire again. But much of the time, I am learning how to tolerate a rather drab world, perhaps much akin to the one my father has lived in all his life.

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