He may not remember it, but to me the event is quite clear. Well maybe not THAT clear, perhaps a bit fuzzy, as clarity and fuzziness are what inspired this topic.

Back in the olden days, bicycles were rare, almost as rare as they are now, but for different reasons. A bike today seems affordable to most, but apparently so are cars, which is why we don’t see bikes too often. And it makes me feel good, if a bit guilty when I see an elderly man riding around town. He usually pedals his bike along North Grand; he’ll sometimes stop for a cold drink at Burger King, and then go home, which is close to the East Las Vegas Schools Administration Building. Anyone know his name?

But back to the point: One autumn afternoon I was riding a single bike with my classmate Chris Martinez along University Avenue. We had one bike between us. We called the arrangement “double hoss power.” With one of us in front and the other on the carrier or fender, we both could pedal, providing more “horses” to power the bike.

On one of our rides, Chris asked me if I planned to vote for Jan Black for homecoming queen at Highlands. At Highlands? We’d just begun our freshman year at Immaculate Conception. Who’s Jan Black anyway? How can we vote for anyone at Highlands?

Well, it turns out that Chris, pedaling in front, noticed a banner that stretched from Ilfeld Auditorium to what was then the Student Union Building. Jan Black must have been a college student whose supporters went through a lot of effort to publicize her campaign. The homecoming football game was only a few days away, and campaigning was active.

I realized that I couldn’t make out any of the large letters on the banner until we got up close. How had things changed to quickly that I went from good eyesight to the inability to read letters a foot high?

Soon I noticed that that our homeroom teacher, Sister Mary Muchas Palabras, became testy when I failed to decipher the little numbers we’d tack on to letters in algebra class.

Well that experience led to a referral to an optometrist. Being a bit of a wise guy, I explained to the doctor that I didn’t want him to use Novocaine during the examination. I believe he stumbled a bit as he explained he was an optometrist, not a dentist. I knew the difference but wanted to inject a bit of humor into the examination.

And I expected the eye doctor to be much older, maybe have a bit of a paunch. In fact, I later learned he’d put in a half dozen years in the military and was in his 20s when he set up his practice in Las Vegas.

Of course, I’m referring to Dr. Bob Vander Meer, who just recently celebrated his 86th birthday with a retirement party. His last employment was with Eye Associates, but for many years prior, he was in private practice.

Thousands of patients obviously have occupied his examination room, my being one of them. During my first visit, in the fall of 1953, I asked him how one’s eyes could undergo such a radical change; a few weeks before, I was playing baseball and was able to stop line-drives; today, I’d be lucky to even see the ball.

Vander Meer explained that body parts, including eyes, grow at different rates. He assured me I’d done nothing wrong for my eyes to behave that way. His explanation made perfect sense to me then, but I can’t explain it now. But suffice to say, a lot of people went to him for eye exams and maybe some of them even asked the same question.

At the party Saturday, I asked several new acquaintances at my table their connection to Vander Meer. A surprising number said he’d been their families’ optometrist. As the doctor was about to deliver a few words of thanks to the audience, I told those at my table, “I hope he doesn’t make a spectacle of himself.”

Not one chuckle. Not any evidence that they’d caught on to my atrocious pun. Not even a courtesy groan. I guess that shows that some people can tell ’em, some can’t.
Nevertheless Vander Meer’s six decades of service to this area are appreciated, and he richly deserves his retirement.

• • •

Does anybody remember the name Jan Black, the erstwhile candidate for homecoming queen? After being fitted for my first pair of glasses, I was able to see the bold lettering and crisp edges to the banner strung between buildings.

I started wearing glasses during the fall of my high school freshman year, and I was barely 15 at the time. And naturally schoolmates christened me “Clark Kent” (I wrote sports for the Optic then; Clark Kent was a mild-mannered reporter who appeared in Superman movies); Mr. Peepers, who had a weekly TV program; and “Fluoride,” a variation of “four eyes.”

My question about Jan Black stems from my being positive of her name, some 60-plus years ago. I’m hoping some reader can verify my observation, or else, I’ll need to ask my friend Chris what he remembers.

• • •

A recent column about the Mayonnaise Wars drew considerable response from readers. The most interesting came from a Tecolotito transplant, Fred Padilla, a 6-foot-5-inch man who now lives in North Carolina.

I tried hard to condense it so it would fit into this space, but after further review, I believe it will have more impact if I include more details than space allows here.
So look for Fred Padilla’s reaction in next week’s Work of Art.

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