Flying High

(Courtesy: Mitch Carter on Instagram).

(The following is adapted from a speech that was delivered at Waubonsee Community College in the summer of 2014 on the subject of "What is your most prized possession?", reprinted here in celebration of National Sunglasses Day)

There are all sorts of things that mean all sorts of things to all sorts of people. Everyone has something important to them, and probably then some. There are many things that I myself count as highly important to me: America, aviators, and AMC’s Mad Men are just few that I can count amongst them. But only one of those that I’ve named is an object I can hold in my hands; yet the only place I ever want them is on my face: the aviator sunglasses, preferably mirrored. Though they are physically a simple, relatively thin and flimsy item, my aviators repeatedly prove their importance to me on all but a daily basis, first through their key intended function of shielding my eyes from blinding sun, and also by their just-as-vital way of adding an extra edge to my look, by being the coolest, raddest, baddest shades around.

Being the massive sphere of burning plasma that it is, the sun has a tendency to be incredibly bright during the daytime hours, and I rely on my aviators to protect my eyes from that light while I perform important tasks, like driving, or wandering about outdoors. Sure, the sun is essential to creating the conditions in which life on Earth can exist, but without any protection, not only would I have a difficult time seeing ahead of myself through the intense rays, but I would also be opening myself up to the threat of lasting damage to my eyes. Thankfully, my possession of aviator sunglasses has alleviated this trouble. With their big, dark lenses covering my face like a Spartan phalanx, the aviators bring the world down to a cooler brightness, and the solar eminences find themselves powerless to halt me.

Of course, by their very nature, virtually any pair of sunglasses could guard my eyesight the way I’ve described, but there is something that simply sets aviators apart to me as more than just protective eyewear. The aviators do much more than just shield my eyes; they take me out of the sun and bring me to a place cooler than any other. They take me to a place of speed, parties, rock n roll, and freedom; a place where you can hear Van Halen on your stereo just well enough over the sound of the wind blowing through your hair, a place where the only fight is to keep ahold of that feeling. Whoever at Ray-Ban decided back in the thirties to start selling “pilot’s glasses” to the general public may very well have been a marketing genius; as the decades unfolded since, it has been proven time and time again that there’s almost nothing cooler than flying sweet jets (even if only because it’s impossible to fly your own giant bald eagle), and that’s exactly the sort of air I want about me in everyday life. Other styles, of course, have had their iconic moments, but there’s only one that MacArthur wore to storm the Philippines, only one good enough for Mav and Ice when they’re not busy shooting MiGs out of the danger zone, and thusly, there’s only one good enough for me.

When I first went out in search of shades way back when, it wasn’t a quest to which ones could protect me from the sun—the point of them was that they all could—, but rather the find the one’s that could do the job right. I came across several candidates for a place on my face that were all shot down by one flaw or another: wraparounds were too tight to fit over my eyeglasses, wayfarers are for Kennedys, and so on. I do believe it was the hand of fate that brought me to the aviators, perfectly big and bold enough to sit over top of glasses without looking too tacky, and bringing with them just the right mix of military and arena metal attitude. At once shielding my eyes and wing-manning for my style, the aviators have smoothly soared their way into becoming one of my most important possessions.

Thank you very much, and God bless the US.

-Mitchell D. Carter.