Colour blindness leads to dressing like Mr. Furley

I have lived with the inconvenience of colour blindness all my life.

Now I guess that’s nothing compared with, let’s say, the heartbreak of psoriasis, but not only is being colour blind annoying, it can also be dangerous.

The first time I can remember it entering my life was the day I wrote the test for my driver’s licence. I remember the fellow saying to me, “What number do you see in the green box?” I responded with, “Which one is the green box?”

My colour problem has been described to me as a “deep red-green deficiency.” I can rarely distinguish red from green, navy from black, yellow from orange or purple from blue. The colour I can mostly always identify is burgundy, so I consider that my favourite colour and I tend to surround myself with it.

Getting back to my driver’s test. Despite the green box episode, he passed me on the written. (Probably because he and my dad were friends).

Looking back, I’m glad our small town had no traffic lights because they can be tricky.

I know the top light is red (meaning you have to stop) and the middle one is orange (meaning gumboot-er at the risk of peril) and the green one means you’re good to go.

But, I can’t always tell if the green is lit . Sometimes, it’ll turn out that it only looks like it’s lit because the sun is shining on it. Scary.

Many people think if you’re colour blind, you must see in black and white. No. In my case, I see the world in colour; I just can’t always distinguish which colour is which.

Dressing is the worst part. At various times in my life I’ve had all my clothes tagged 1, 2, 3 and 4. Several 2s, for example, would be OK to wear together, as would several 4s.

Almost every day, I’ll ask my wife: “Does this shirt go with these pants?” Almost every time, she’ll answer, “No.” It’s frustrating.

In 1989, I was sent to Newfoundland to run some radio stations. Several months after I met my secretary, once she had gotten to know me, she said, “You know, Fred, that first day you walked into my office and I looked up and saw you standing there, I thought to myself: ‘Oh, my God, it’s Mr. Furley.’ (From Three’s Company). She was probably also thinking Herb Tarlick (from WKRP). Those boys weren’t snappy dressers either. I wonder if they were colour blind.

Fred Trainor is a retired broadcaster living in Okanagan Falls.