[stylist] color/rainbow prompt response

[Chris Kuell]

Here are my musings about Barbara's prompt the other day.
 

Reflections on Colors and Rainbows

 

By Chris Kuell

 

 

"We do not understand what this means - to 'see'." 

"Well, it's what, what things look like," Meg said helplessly.

"We do not know what things look like, as you say," the beast said. "We know what things are like. It must be a very limiting thing, this seeing."

"Oh no," Meg cried. "It's the most wonderful thing in the world."

"What a very strange place your world must be," the beast said. "That such a peculiar seeming thing should be of such importance."

 

>From A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle 
 



What is your favorite color? What color is a rainbow? 

These questions were posted on a listserve of blind writers recently. Simple questions, questions that nearly any three-year-old can answer without a moment's hesitation, and yet they left me a little dumbfounded. My favorite color? I suppose I could answer green, because that's the color associated with money, and I can always use more of that. Or red, because a cooked lobster is red, and I love lobster. But of course, the meat of the lobster is actually white, and then I like to dip it in yellow butter, so what color does that make it? Perhaps flesh tone, because I love my wife, especially touching my wife. But of course, what color is she? And what color are the parts of her I like to touch most? Or maybe amber, which is the color of my favorite beer. At least, I think it's amber. It's a lager, which I think is darker than a regular beer, but not as dark as a dark beer. Or blue, it might definitely be blue. The ocean is blue, and I love the feel of the ocean, the sounds of the waves, the salty feel of the breeze, the refreshing cold on a hot summer day. But of course, the ocean can appear gray at times, and I've heard that in parts of the Caribbean it's almost a green color, and if you are underwater it's actually black.

 

So what's my favorite color? I don't believe I have one. To me, colors are things sighted people use to distinguish and describe things, but it has little to no meaning to me in my life. I don't like lobster because of its color, but because of its flavor. I don't like money for its color, I like what I can do with it. It doesn't matter what color the ocean is, as long as it's cool and vast and full of energy and life. The beauty can't possibly be in the blue, but in the tides, the power of the waves, the roar in a storm, and the soothing calm at dawn.           

 

There was a time in life when I was very much a part of the world of colors. As a teenager, I wanted to become a professional photographer. I had several cameras, and even set up a darkroom in my parent's basement to process photos. The right lighting, shades and color were very important in capturing just the right image. In my early twenties, I fully restored a 1969 Mach 1 Mustang, and lamented for weeks over what color to paint it. Even when I had narrowed it down to blue, should I go with Acapulco Blue, or Grabber Blue? And what about racing stripes-flat black, regular, or glossy black?   

 

Such angst disappeared from my world sixteen years ago when I lost my sight. And in all honesty, I don't miss it. My wife asks, "Do you want a red bathing suit? They also have it in blue, green or black?" As long as it fits, I don't care. It makes life much simpler. What color phone, what color ipod, what color suitcase do I want? Doesn't matter to me, as long as it does the job I need it for. Right now I have no idea what color my jeans are, or the tee shirt under the hoody I'm wearing, or the hoody for that matter. All I know is that they fit, and they are comfortable. If I ever come downstairs in the morning with a combination of clothing that clashes, my wife or daughter will let me know, and I may or may not change. Because the truth is, I just don't care that much. 

 

Yes, I know we live in a predominately sighted world, and sighted folks love their colors. So much that apparently there are 47 different shades of white indoor paint at the Benjamin Moore store. I've heard people talking about fifty shades of gray, but most say it's not worth the time and effort to read. Regardless, I find it hard to believe that whether you choose periwinkle or turquoise or robin's egg blue as the color to paint your mailbox, it will make much difference to your overall quality of life.



My ignorance has admittedly had its drawbacks. A couple of years ago I went on a mission trip with the youth group of my church to rebuild homes destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. Everybody's backpacks were unloaded into a big pile, and when a guy who wanted to help asked, "What color is your backpack?" I could only shrug my shoulders. It's a medium sized backpack, with three primary zippers and a rubberized bottom to keep water out when it's on the ground. It has a security pouch that velcro's into the first zippered section for money and valuables, and a mesh divider in the second section where I keep my diabetes supplies. I know exactly what it feels like, and I know where everything is inside it. So, I helped pass out backpacks until I found mine, and we continued on with our day.

 

A couple of weeks ago my wife and I attended a party where the hostess took our jackets away and put them in a bedroom. When it was time to go, I asked one of the hostess's kids to show me where the coats were so I could get mine. She said, "Oh, I'll get it for you. What color is it?"

 

Damn. Such a simple question. "It's a winter coat, slippery vinyl type, goes down about halfway to my knees. It's got a hood, and it's got both a zipper and Velcro straps, and four pockets on the outside, one on the inside, left breast. My wallet is in the inside pocket, in the bottom left outside pocket is my glove, my keys, and a few tissues. Bottom right is my other glove and some glucose tablets. Upper left pocket has a granola bar in case my blood sugar goes really low, and the upper right pocket has my cell phone in it."

 

The girl stood there for a second, then asked again, "But what color is it?"

 

I had her take me to the bedroom, where I located both me and my wife's coats without much difficulty.

 

I've given even less thought to rainbows these last years than I have to colors in general. When my kids were young, I'd sometimes take them outside to look for a rainbow if there happened to be sunshine after a rain. Kids love rainbows because to them, they are magical. They appear and disappear seemingly at random, and rumor has it there are pots of gold and leprechauns to be found at their ends. One time when we were visiting my parents on the coast of Maine, the kids came home from a trip to the store with Grandma just about peeing themselves with excitement. "Daddy! Daddy! We saw a double rainbow over the ocean!" For the kids sake, I acted all excited. I was happy for them. But really, what was the big deal? 

 

So what is a rainbow, anyway? Rather than magic, we must turn to science, and a little background information. White light, or the light that comes from the sun, is made up of waves of energy, much like the ocean. Some of these waves are big, and some are smaller, and there's everything in between. If we separate these waves of light energy, we find that they have what the human eye sees as different colors. The biggest waves have a red color, and the smallest waves a blue/violet color. When white light is separated loosely into different wavelengths, it's called refraction, and is commonly accomplished with a glass or hard, clear plastic prism. A prism is square on the bottom, a point on the top, and all four sides are equilateral triangles. Light goes in one side, and if the prism is in just the right position, it gets refracted, then reflected off a different side inside the prism, so it comes out yet another side 'split' into the color spectrum.

 

While water droplets are not prisms, they are similar. They're clear, a perfect point at the top, and spherical on the bottom. If conditions are just right, primarily after a rain, tiny water droplets remain present in the air. If the clouds disperse, and the sun shines at just the right angle, the white light from the sun may be refracted by one side of the water droplet, then reflected off the backside of the droplet, further refracted as the light leaves the droplet, and appears as a color spectrum in the air. Since the walls of a water droplet are curved, rather than straight like a prism's, the color spectrum appears as a curve, or an arch in the air. The top of the arch is typically red, because that has the longest wavelength, and purplish on the bottom, because that's the shortest. However, air pollutants, the time of day, whether it's fresh or salty water-all these factors can affect the colors of a rainbow. And as soon as the angle of the sun changes, or the number of water particles evaporate, the rainbow disappears. Which does, I suppose, make it a little bit magical after all.