I was 'born' on the day the music died

Where were you the day the music died? That was a question asked many years ago (and far too often, in the esteem of some, like my wife) by folkie Don MacLean.

I remember precisely where I was. I was riding a big green and cream Pacific Stage Lines bus from Burnaby to New Westminster for an appointment with my hack butcher of a dentist – I still suffer from his shoddy craftsmanship, but that is another matter.

I had taken a seat on the bus next to a girl I knew from my grade 10 homeroom. As I seated myself, I noticed that her face was a mask of grief. Oh, maybe that is hyperbole, but she did look disquieted.

“Did you hear that Buddy Holly was killed?” she enquired. “And Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper!”

“Not the Big Bopper!” I exclaimed, cursed with an inability to predict future icon status for budding martyrs. “Then, this must be the day the music dies!”

“Right on,” she said. No she didn’t People didn’t say ‘right on’ for at least another decade. So, I don’t remember exactly what she said. Indeed, I suspect that none of the foregoing conversation actually took place, at least in the manner it has been presented. But, it is true that a girl from grade 10 did tell me about Buddy Holly and those two other guys.

If truth were known, I actually remember Buddy Holly from before he was dead. I saw him once on Ed Sullivan, and I was well-pleased. Pleased not only because I thought he was a fine practitioner of the rock genre, but also because he wore glasses.

Few were the bespectacled teen heroes in those days, so a lot of pathetic four-eyed kids (like I was) were lying in wait for a Buddy Holly to appear on the scene. He only stayed for a short time, but it was enough to break the glasses-equal-nerd equation forever.

In later years we ‘lens-challenged’ had John Lennon, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Michael Caine, among others. It was also revealed that the mega-cool James Dean was also a glasses-wearer. However, with the astigmatism-stigma of his day, he never allowed himself to be photographed wearing his specs.

But, those who have been open about needing a bit of vision enhancement know that their professional careers would have suffered a blow if it hadn’t been for Buddy. After all, who were the glasses wearers before Buddy? They were the likes of Harold Lloyd, Arnold Stang, Ed Wynn, Wally Cox and Clark Kent. Dweebs to a one.

I had my glasses imposed on me when I was in the fourth grade. They were to correct some sort of muscle deficiency that led to, in the succinct ophthalmologic terminology of the day, a “lazy eye.” Mainly, if I hadn’t had corrective lenses, I would have ended up cross-eyed, which may have worked for silent flick comic actor Ben Turpin, and one-time sexy actress, Karen Black, but would have done diddly for my self-esteem, not to mention visual acumen.

I was spec clad from fourth grade until my twenties. Then, blessedly, I was able to chuck them and enjoy a brief hiatus from enhancement until I needed reading glasses at around forty. Today, I just wear my readers. Otherwise, I don’t wear glasses.

But, my point is, I had to go through the bulk of my school days as a ‘four-eyes’, and kids are never kind or diplomatic about pointing out flaws they might see in another. My personal flaw they saw in my glasses.

Glasses in those days were extremely ugly. There was no fashion statement about them. They were as aesthetically appealing as Long John Silver’s crutch. But, worse than looking homely was the fact that if you wore glasses, certain personality traits were automatically ascribed to you. Those who saw through a lens, either lightly or darkly, were deemed to be bookish and nerdy. They were the benighted little souls who wore their shirts buttoned up to the neck, and hiked their pants up to the ribcage. Even if that wasn’t the case with all glasses-wearers – like me, for example – that was still the impression those windowpanes in front of your eyeballs conveyed.

I went through years of this, and it was stressful. Having to wear glasses violated my image of what I should be like – excruciatingly cool.

There were other deficits that had to be endured. If you wore glasses you were immediately deemed to be lousy at sports. I was lousy at sports, but it had nothing to do with the glasses. But, the glasses simply added to the insult of always being last picked.

If you wore glasses, teachers automatically assumed you were scholarly. Teachers, not always the brightest bulbs on the tree (or they wouldn’t be teachers), tend to live on archetypes. I know, I was one, once. Consequently, their expectations of one were higher than they were for the specs-free. As a result, my report cards ended up being filled with the “Ian is not working up to his capacity,” sort of comment. Hey, maybe I was working to my capacity. It was just that the glasses combined with lower scale marks didn’t tie in with the geekish image.

And then there were girls. Girls were the worst. Even girls who wore glasses disdained guys who did. Well, they may have had a genetically valid point in that they didn’t want to produce progeny that had myopia coming from both sides of the gene pool, so they sought out 20/20 boys. That hurt.

But then, when I was at my most vulnerable and insecure (adolescence) Buddy Holly came onto the scene, and he changed my world, and the worlds of many others.

He wore glasses! And such cool glasses they were. Thick, black frames that looked masterful and strong. At the same time, his music was magnificent. Everybody, including girls, grooved on his music and the sentiments of his songs.

I begged and pleaded to get such spectacles as Buddy wore. On this rare occasion, pity was taken on me, and I was able to get them. My life changed. Not instantly, but it did change. I grew taller, my voice changed, and I got the same eyewear as that martyred boy from Lubbock, Texas. Some friends were even driven to suggest, when I first sported my nifty black frames, that I even looked a bit like Buddy Holly – albeit alive.

For, one February day his little plane cracked up in an Iowa snowstorm, and he became an instant cult-figure, and even the clear-of-seeing saw a certain mystique in the specs, and they ultimately became his symbol, even more than his guitar.