“You look just like my cousin Joyce from Boise.”
“Oh, really? I’ve never seen your cousin, and I’m not saying that I don’t look like her, but I think I just have one of those faces. Everyone seems to think I look like someone they know.”
It isn’t so surprising when you realize the small number of choices Mother Nature has to choose from to develop the infinite numbers of faces that millions of people must have. Two eyes, one nose and one mouth. That’s what makes up the human face. How many ways can those three features be shifted around before faces start repeating themselves? How many different faces can Mother nature devise before running out of new ideas?
I should have paid more attention in my logic and statistics classes, but what are the odds of designing a face that has no repercussions in other towns and cities? How finite the answer must be to the question: how many different faces can be designed given the paltry three features from which to choose?
There could be more possibilities if the features were spread around the face in varying schemes; like putting one eye up in the left corner and the second one smack dab in the middle of the face. The nose could be located in different places on different people, causing a different appearance between folks with noses in the centers of their faces. And while there are people who seem to be all mouth, that feature could gravitate around too.
But that hasn’t happened yet, to my knowledge. Have you ever considered the miracle of all the differences in faces in a crowd of hundreds of people? In an airport, or a theater, in a shipping mall at Christmas time? I am constantly amazed by the sheer numbers of people swarming around, yet all having different faces.
These are the kinds of problems I ponder. It’s more fun than pondering politics, and doesn’t lead to as many arguments.
Or do I wonder about this issue because I object to knowing that I resemble someone’s cousin in Boise?