Eye of the Beholder

Mom seemed to be completely engrossed in a cable news program.  It had two young men as guest commentators and they were each voicing their expert – and completely opposite – views on some political topic or another.  Bill and I were in the Arizona Room watching something much more informative and politically pertinent to our times – Repo Games.

“Patty, Patty,” Mom called out from her perch on the couch.  “Come and look at this.”

“Crap!” I muttered, getting up while Bill just sat there smirking.

I tromped into the living room and stood in front of her.  “What?” I asked, somewhat brusquely.

“Look at these two guys on the TV.  They could be brothers, they look so much alike.  Except this one,” she said, pointing at the one currently in front of the camera.  “He’s got a cowlick and the other one doesn’t.  But that’s the only difference.  Wait, you’ll see.”

So I plopped myself down on the recliner to ‘wait and see’ because this was obviously very important to her.  Luckily for me, within a minute they flashed a split-screen of both men.  The one with the ‘cowlick’ was probably in his early to mid-twenties.  He had dark, almost black hair and sported a widows peak, not a cowlick.  The other man looked to be in his late thirties.  His light brown hair had just the beginning speckles of grey at the temple.  Dark-hair had a round, wide-eyed, almost baby face.  Slightly-graying had chiseled features with wire rim glasses perched on his hawkish nose.  They bore absolutely no resemblance to each other.

“See, see,” Mom said, gesturing with a shaky finger at the television.  “Don’t they look alike?  They could be brothers.”

“Mom, they don’t look anything alike,” I said, getting up to leave.  “They’re different ages, their hair is different, their faces are different.  How can you say they look the same.”

She pause briefly and squinted at the TV before replying, “Oh, well, I guess you’re right,” she conceded as she changed the channel.  “When I looked at them before they weren’t talking.”



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