Some children don't like doctors. Personally, I am shocked and hurt. That is not to say I wouldn't agree with them were I in their position, but still I have feelings like the next guy. I walk into the room, and it is like a three-alarm fire. The youngster heads for the hills or hides in the rock-solid protection of the mom. Seated on the security of a parental lap, the toddler stares back defiantly with his eyes or averts them from the nemesis, the shot monster.

To calm frightened children, I hide. I cover my eyes. Magically I'm gone. Peeking out between the slightly separated fingers, I check to see if it is working. Sure enough, their nerves start to relax. Their muscles loosen up. Their death grip is not as strangling. They slow the sucking speed of their pacifiers. I am not there to harm them in spite of my size, my weight or my clothing. My eyes are me. They don't see my eyes; they don't see me.

The moment I uncover my eyes they stiffen with tension. I'm back. They flex their muscles readying to race away or prepare for attack. Their eyes open wide and scan, checking for avenues of escape and assessing the threat that has suddenly reappeared before them. The pacifier starts to dance and bounce as the pace of sucking quickens. The toddler is hanging on again for dear life. Their renewed panic was triggered by just two eyes.

A newborn is programmed to look at eyes. At only three weeks of life a baby knows the difference between a sad, happy or angry facial expression. Their vision is cloudy, but their perception is clear. This recognition of feelings is learned through the eye-to-eye connection that downloads the emotional history of the mother. When the mother smiles she is sharing through her eyes and face the joyful accumulated memory of her new childhood bike, the excitement of her first kiss and the happiness of no longer being pregnant. When she is sad she is transferring via her gaze her lost doll, the feeling of her best friend moving away and the sorrow of the moment.

While the breath of life may enter through the lungs it leaves through the eyes. The dead are not recognized by the lack of movement or the ins and outs of their breathing. It is the blank stare of death. The eyes also give clues to how alive a person is. There is such a thing as a twinkle. Drugged stares are stone. The tired are as exhausted as their drooping lids. Liars attempt to hide their eyes with rapid blinks as though they are covering up the truth or obscuring their felonies.