Top Gun was the name he gave himself while making his introduction. He was a native Pula of the Okavango Delta. He and his people were rich in comparison to the surrounding villages due to tourism dollars, yet I was amazed to find only huts and shacks, stores that only stocked a few necessities, and no one wore glasses. While escorting us on a hike, Top Gun excitedly called my name "Chris! Chris! Look!" He was standing upright and pointing to a scraggly bouquet of brown grass, dried twigs and orange dirt at his sparsely sandaled feet. I bent down to see and witnessed an iridescent skink winding through the foliage. "It's beautiful! How did you spot it from up there?" I asked. "I can see easily from here," he replied. "Those colors... and its scales are so smooth," I marveled. I bent closer. "You can see from that close, yeah?"  Top Gun asked. "Yeah, can't you?" "No, only up here is eyesight good." "Ever try wearing glasses?" I asked. The privilege I betrayed while posing that question was answered by a smirk and a slow head shake by Top Gun. I was embarrassed.  To the rich Pulas of the fertile Okavango Delta in Botswana, owning eyeglasses was a luxury out of reach. I went on that trip not to help anyone but myself. After almost a decade of working in the pharmacy industry, I needed something to reset my perspective. For years I went above and beyond behind the scenes to help people, knowing I was making a difference, even if anonymously. Face to face it was another story, as oftentimes we were blamed for the frustrations we could not ameliorate. I kept at it regardless, holding my good deeds as a badge of honor, but over time I became burnt out and I realized that this kind of martyrdom wasn't healthy. Meeting Top Gun, his people, and other tribes in Africa showed me just how myopic my little world became over time. It was a few years later when I became introduced to the world of Opticianry. I began working in Costco's pharmacy and I quickly noticed something: a group of employees who stood out - always happy, buoyant, full of energy and passion. They often made the people around them smile. They were popular. Then one day Mark sat next to me at lunch and struck up a conversation and I found out he was working in the optical department. I got to know him and a few other opticians and it was clear that they loved their jobs. I observed and shadowed them for a while to gain insight to their field and what I saw was astounding: people would come to them with all kinds of problems, and at that time the solutions would seem like magic. I didn't know anything about decentration, or prism, or segs, or pantoscopic tilt - yet with deft hands, collaborative problem solving, and didactic interactions, I witnessed people's faces light up, eyes fill with tears, and constant expressions of gratitude and joy. I remember seeing children try on their first pair and witnessing their amazement and I thought to myself "I need to be a part of this." Within a year they posted an ad for an unlicensed optician with the stipulation that they are willing to go to school. I jumped at the opportunity. I'm in my first year, but already I have trips lined up around the state to volunteer at Special Olympic events for eyeglasses, and a potential trip to Jamaica to help the needy there.