In the olden days, life was simple but harsh. One thing that made people's lives particularly challenging was the absence of sunglasses. Without protection for their eyes, many people developed blindness from staring at the sun for too long. As a result, many people were blind or had severely impaired vision by the time they reached adulthood.

One sunny morning, an elderly woman named Doris was out gathering firewood near the edge of a high cliff. She had been blind for many years due to looking at the sun and relied heavily on her cane to navigate. As she searched for dry branches near the edge, she slipped and fell over the edge. Her screams echoed through the valley as she fell to her tragic death below.

Sadly, Doris's story was far from unique. In the olden days, falling off cliffs was an all too common occurrence among the blind population. With no way to see danger surrounded their homes, many unfortunate souls met their end in this cruel manner. The people back then mourned each loss deeply but there seemed little they could do to prevent such tragedies from happening again and again.

They built fences around known hazards and trained sighted companions to guide the blind through treacherous terrain but even that was of little help. It was a harsh reality that would remain unchanged for generations to come until someone finally invented something as simple yet revolutionary as sunglasses - a small piece of technology that would one day save countless lives from falling victim to the same terrible fate as poor Doris.

In the olden days, our family of eight faced the hardships of poverty, but we managed to make it work. Each morning, our mother would wake us up before the crack of dawn, her worn hands gently nudging us out of sleep. We would gather in the dimly lit kitchen, huddling close to the comforting warmth of the wood-burning stove.

As we prepared for another day at the one-room schoolhouse, we were reminded of our limited means. Shoes were a luxury we couldn't afford but we considered ourselves fortunate to at least have a pair of socks each. Our resourceful mother, with her unwavering love, found a way to make our frigid journeys to school a little more bearable.

With a smile on her tired face, she would instruct each of us to remove one sock. In its place, she would gently place a warm potato. It may have seemed like a humble substitution, but that potato became a lifeline in the biting cold. Clutching the precious potato in our small hands, we would scurry off towards the schoolhouse, our mismatched footwear a testament to our circumstances.

The path to education was never easy. In those days, the world was often covered in a pristine blanket of snow, the ground crunching beneath our feet. The journey to the one-room schoolhouse was a formidable four-mile uphill trek. Each step was a battle against the elements but the warmth of the potato radiating through the sock offered a glimmer of solace.

Arriving at the school, we would find our desks, carefully placing the potatoes upon them. With relief, we would slide our naked foot back into the waiting sock. The simple act of reuniting foot and fabric brought instant comfort, allowing us to focus on our studies. That foot, protected by the makeshift insulation, would remain warm throughout the long school day.

Lunchtime was a modest affair, and the potato served as our nourishment. It sustained us with its humble sustenance, providing us with energy and a respite from the gnawing pangs of hunger. We would savor every bite, grateful for the sustenance it offered and the warmth it had provided earlier.

As the school day came to an end, darkness descended upon the landscape. We knew the journey home awaited us, an alternate route which involved a four-mile uphill trek, all in the biting cold. With the final bell, we swiftly gathered our belongings, our determination to reach the sanctuary of home pushing us forward.

Though our tired legs moved swiftly, the chill in the air nipped at our skin. Yet, deep within us, the memory of the warm potato remained, inspiring us to persevere. The thought of returning to the loving embrace of our family, the hearth ablaze with flickering warmth, fueled our steps.

Our journey back home may have been arduous, but it was also a testament to our resilience. Each mile passed, the warmth of the potato fading but not forgotten. We pressed on, united in our shared struggle, driven by a love that knew no bounds.

When we finally arrived home, the flickering light from the windows welcomed us. The aroma of a simple yet nourishing meal enveloped us as we stepped through the door. We were greeted by our mother's warm embrace, her eyes reflecting a blend of fatigue and pride. We had endured another day, another battle against the biting cold.

In the years that followed, our circumstances gradually improved, and the memory of the warm potato faded into the tapestry of our past. Yet, its significance remained etched in our hearts. It symbolized our collective strength, our resilience in the face of adversity.

In The Olden Days

Sunglasses

Potatoes

Potatoes