When I Was A Boy, the words "Be a good reflector today" were a refrain in my life. These were the last words I heard from my mother on my way out the door on most school days. And while the true meaning of her goodbye was obscure to me, it was said with such love that my day started in a happy way, even on the dreariest winter morning.
Decades later I was driving through a suburban neighborhood on the way home from an evening meeting. It was late, and, with the exception of an occasional splash of light from a street lamp, the road was dark. I saw a flicker of light ahead that I immediately identified as a jogger. He was wearing an outfit with fluorescent trim, making him easily seen by oncoming traffic. "Now, that's being a good reflector," I thought.
In the days that followed, I asked myself why the jogger was such a good reflector. It occurred to me that he had not created his own light. Rather, the headlamps of the car generated the light, and the fluorescent trim on his suit returned those same beams of light back toward me. In effect, the jogger had given back the light; he had not originated it.
