Happiness is blue or brown

It has been said that happiness is found in unexpected places. What may not be so well known is that "unexpected places" refers to a corner of my eye doctor's office. This is where the eyeglass department is located, run by a man we shall call Franz because I cannot remember his actual name.

During my recent visit, Franz was charged with helping me find a new pair of frames, and was delighted to see that I had "a high prescription." 

"Dat is my speciality," he said. Evidently other clients' prescriptions offered little challenge to a man of Franz's talents, and I was happy that my poor vision could be used to some good purpose. Heaven knows it has not served much purpose up until now.

Franz got right down to business. He took a critical look at my current pair of glasses, which had not come from his collection. We were both in agreement that the mistakes made in choosing the old frames -- including that they had not come from his collection -- should not be repeated.

Off to the side was a revolving rack of frames that Franz explained were fully covered by my insurance -- meaning, I supposed, that as eyeglass frames go, they were not just the bottom of the barrel, they were not even IN the barrel.

"If here" -- he gestured toward the rack -- "you do not find your happiness, we will look elsewhere."

It looked to be a pitifully small collection to bring one happiness, but I was game to try.

One after the other I tried on the frames he selected. He appraised each one with either "Dose are cute," "Dose are fun," or a firm "No. Dose are not for you."

We soon exhausted the insurance-approved selection, and his desk was cluttered with rejects.

"I don't think I've found my happiness yet," I said apologetically.

"Dat is not a problem," he said, his energy not failing in the least. He brought several more frames, encouraging me to make a "possible" pile. Dark colors were out. Multicolors were out, although Franz's own multicolor frames suited him very well.

At last I was left with just one "possible." But I was not willing to concede that I'd found happiness quite so soon. After all, the frame came in three colors. 

"Red?" I said, trying the red pair on.

In unison, we said "no."

"What do you think of the blue?" I said, putting the blue pair on.

He shrugged. "De blue is very fun, but you are not a blue person. You are a brown, perhaps a gray person."

It is not overly inspiring to learn that one's happiness lies in the gray or brown realm.

In the end, I decided on the brown, and Franz was enthusiastic. "Dese are perfect for you," he declared, although I suspect he was merely relieved.

As I went to the counter to pay, Franz moved on to the next customer, who had begun trying on frames while he was waiting. Franz said in mild alarm, "My friend, what are you doing with dese brown frames? No, no -- you are a blue person, or perhaps purple, no?...come, we will find you something more suitable..."