SEEIN’ RED

July 08, 2026

by Rusty W. Mitchum

I am not a shopper. I despise shoppin’ and will do just about anything to avoid the unpleasantness of doin’ it. Now I’m not talkin’ about buyin’ stuff. I’m talkin’ about walkin’ up and down aisles lookin’, comparin’ prices, feelin’ textures; you know, junk like that. Janet, my wife, loves to shop and by the looks of her shoe and purse collection, she must be pretty good at it. If I’m in the need of somethin’, I walk into the place of business and ask where it is. Then I go get it, pay for it, and leave. Occasionally, I get stuck havin’ to go into someplace with Janet when she needs, or more likely wants somethin’. Most of the time I’ll just sit in the jeep, listen to the radio or nap.

Anywho, this past Saturday, after I had taken her out for breakfast, she said she needed to stop in at a store to check on somethin’. In woman talk that means she had some coupons that were burnin’ a hole in her purse and she needed to get rid of them. Well, it was too hot to sit in the jeep, so I went in with her. She told me to go see if I could find some T-shirts because she was tired of lookin’ at the ones I had. Actually, I think she was tryin’ to get rid of me, so I wouldn’t be pointin’ out that fact that she probably already had a dozen or so of whatever she would be buyin’.

Well, I moseyed over to the men’s department and started lookin’ around. I was standin’ in the aisle lookin’ all around when a voice spoke up.

“May I help you find anything?”

I turned around and there was a young man standin’ there. He had a pleasant smile on his face.

“Howdy,” I said. “You got any T-shirts?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Follow me.”

I followed as he led the way. “Here you go,” he said. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Well, my wife said to get some colored ones. She said she was tired of lookin’ at my black, white, and camo ones.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, here’s a nice one in apricot nectar.”

“Apricot nectar?”

“Yes, sir. That’s the color. Oh, and here is one in sea crest, and one in sunlight, and my favorite, cerise.”

I picked up the one he said was his favorite. “What color did you say this was?”

“Cerise,” he replied.

“What color is it really?” I asked.

“Sir?”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t see colors very well.”

“Oh,” he said. “Are you colorblind?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

Now, let me stop here and tell you that bein’ colorblind has been quite a challenge. Not for me it hasn’t, but for everyone else. They want to know what it’s like and then they want to help me overcome it. Bein’ colorblind doesn’t bother me. It really doesn’t.

“Well,” he said. “Cerise is red.”

“Why don’t they just call it red then?”

“Uh….well….uh….I’m not really sure.”

“Oh well,” I said. “I don’t guess it really matters.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking; what color do you see?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” I said.

“Does it look green?”

“Don’t know. I don’t know what green looks like.”

“Really? Fascinating. You know,” he continued. “I saw on Facebook where they have glasses now available to enable colorblind people to see colors.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve had a bunch of friends that have sent me that link.”

“Are you going to get some?”

“I doubt it,” I replied. “It really doesn’t bother me. Besides, I looked up the glasses, and it just enhances some colors. It said you still couldn’t pass a colorblind test while wearin’ ‘em.”

“Have you been colorblind since birth?” he asked.

I just looked at him and then smiled. “No,” I said. “When I was in the first grade I could see colors just fine. One day I was sittin’ in class and this kid, who I had whooped that mornin’ out on the playground, called my name. I turned to look at him and suddenly I was hit upside the head with a box of Crayolas he had thrown. It knocked me out of my desk. When I got up, I noticed I could no longer see colors.”

“You’re kidding!” he exclaimed.

I looked at him again. “Of course I kiddin’,” I laughed.

He looked at me and tilted his head and smiled. “You got me,” he said.

“Sorry,” I laughed. “I saw an openin’ and I jumped for it.”

“Well,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re colorblind.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Anywho, how much is that red one?”

He looked at the tag. “It’s only 25 dollars.”

“Twenty-five dollars? Is that for a pack of three?”

“Uh, no, sir. Just one.”

“Wow! Twenty-five dollars? Heck son, it ain’t even got a pocket on it.”

“Pocket?”

I smiled. “Hey Bud, thanks anyway, but that’s just a little too rich for my blood. But, I sure appreciate your help.”

“Yes, sir,” he smiled. “And I hope your colorblindness gets better.”

I just smiled and shook my head. Kids these days.