When I was four, doctors removed my dad’s left eye because of a rare disease.
I remember, and my mom remembers, my relentless questioning:
What will happen to the eye? What does the world look like with one eye? Is it like when you close one eye? Does half of what’s in front of you disappear? Will the other eye be okay? Will the other eye have to work harder? Will it get tired?
“Columbo has a glass eye,” my mom told me.
And that shushed me — because if Columbo, a disheveled, chain-smoking, blue-collar L.A. homicide cop, could solve crimes with one eye, my dad would be okay...