When Keys aren't Keys

In studying neurology, a common test is to show a person a particular black and white drawing.  The drawing is an optical illusion. The person is asked to quickly name what they see. Some people immediately see a young woman and an equal number immediately see an old woman.

In Home Goods the other day I saw a 30 inch long chrome skeleton key. I loved it. Keys are very symbolic for me—particularly with my eldest daughter. When she was accepted to Lehigh University I bought her a gold key on a chain. It was meant to symbolize her key to success, her key to the future, and her key to my heart.

So the giant chrome key—which would be hung in my daughter’s newly decorated/renovated bedroom---was an apt item of décor. It would add some texture and hidden meaning to the room. I planned on hanging the key horizontally over her white wicker headboard on her graphite grey wall. I thought it would have been perfect--in every way.

But when I leaned the key up to the wall and stood back a bit, the key no longer looked like a key—it looked like a giant replica of an external male sexual organ. And despite trying to erase the image from my mind, no matter how hard I tried, all I could see was something I did not want to see.

A giant external male sexual organ hanging over my daughter’s bed just wasn’t the look I was going for. So I returned the key back to Home Goods.

And there are a few people when they look at that illusionary black and white drawing who see both an old woman and a young woman simultaneously. I was one of them. Seeing both images means that I am a creative thinker—capable of instantly processing divergent information---an equal user of my right and left brain. It also means keys are not always keys—they are replicas of external male sexual organs—which are best left in discount home decorating stores and not hanging over your daughter’s bed.