Finding Waldo: Lessons in Life and Perception

So where is Waldo, really?
“Waldo!” I hear my father yell out, slightly too loudly, as we drive past a man in a red and white sweater.
“Ugh, I was just about to say that,” my mother says disappointedly, knowing my dad has just gained a point in our never-ending competition.
The rules of our game are simple, really: anytime one of us sees someone wearing red and white stripes, we can yell out, “Waldo!” and a point is added to our tally (actually, we lost track of the official tally years ago... By now, it would probably be in the thousands). This game is no mere fun activity used to pass the time; it is more cut-throat than any match you could find on ESPN.
‘Where’s Waldo?’ is just one of the many games my parents have come up with over the years – and these games are just one of their many quirks. At times, this quirkiness has seemed like more of a curse than a gift. Children of the ’80s, they would often drive me and my sister to school blasting New Wave hits at top volume. I would ask them to drop me off around the block to avoid embarrassment. My mom also volunteers at every school event, and has a habit of calling over to me and waving, as my face turns bright red.
Simply put, my life has been full of color.
Our lives were yellow when we took our yearly trip to Lake Tahoe every summer, singing and playing games
Just like in a game of ‘Where’s Waldo?,’ answers may sometimes be difficult to find. But in all these years of looking for Waldo, I have realized that there are usually more important things to see along the way. In psychology, this is called inattentional blindness – for instance, while focused on the search for Waldo, one might miss a group of tourists on pogo sticks (something I once actually saw when playing the game). The key to success in the game mirrors the lesson my parents instilled in me: never get too comfortable looking in one