It snowed, last Tuesday, and the little kids and I holed up until Sunday morning. They were restless by the time I presented the blue box and most intrigued by its contents.
It had been a long time since I'd thought about the box let alone opened it, and my childhood came back in a rush with the clicks of the discs and the slide-slide-pops of the levers. "What does this say, Mama?" the girls asked, and I looked upon the words printed on the discs and characters on the images as old friends.
"Try to look through both eyepieces at the same time," I told the girls, "so the images seem 3-D." Because I remember falling in love with my ViewMaster a second time when I realized I could perceive the images with depth.
"Try looking at it another way," James Henry Trotter's mother says, and I am the mother of my own James, now (though we call him Chip), not to mention of Cade, Clementine, and Charleigh. I want to encourage them to do the same: to try looking at things another way.
So many lessons to impart to my children on the topic of seeing, and stereoscopic imaging is least among them. It's overwhelming, really; I'm glad for the presence of the one true ViewMaster in my heart.