Recognized Social Butterfly


Everything is Relative

I have lots of varicose veins streaked on my legs. These purplish discolorations don’t bother me but morbidly fascinate my youngest grandchildren. Let me paraphrase some of their responses: Oh, Papa, what are those yucky lumpy things doing on your legs? Do they crawl over you when you sleep? How do they grow? Can I feel them, please? Did you color on them to make them so dark? They look a bit swollen; do they hurt? Will I get them when I grow up? Let’s get rid of them.

I can only imagine what my grandkids would exclaim if they saw the bare legged man who sat across from me yesterday on TheBus in Honolulu. Both his painfully thin legs were erratically covered with reddish brown scabby spots and gray zigzagging scars. The parched skin on his legs looked partly parboiled and partly charbroiled. What a blotchy horror show!

I now get it: I was as much fixated on the grotesque markings on his legs as my grandkids were on my much less unsightly blemishes. Of course, I had another leg up on the fellow: I am toothy, and he is toothless.













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