“Some day, the man I used to be
Will come along and call on me
And then, because I’m just a man
You’ll find my feet are made of sand” — Rod McKuen
NOTE TO PAIRNTS (as #43 might say) with children: save this picture. Show it to them and share what you care to share of my story, posted in the public interest by a writer/photographer looking for an employer.. . . . .
When I was 8 years old and Mom and Dad told me to take care of my teeth, they did not mean keeping them in my top desk drawer in my office, which is where nine of them reside today. The most recent addition came Saturday as I began brushing my teeth prior to attending the Carillon Art Festival. My first clue to what had happened came when I felt a cool rush of air over part of my upper gum that had not felt the cool rush of air since I was sleeping in a bed with rails on either side. My first clue to what was going to happen came about six months ago when it was clear the incisor in question was slowly “leaving home.” It was longer than the one on the other side. A student asked me about it and I said it was no big deal; he could call me “Mr. Snaggle Tooth,” and he did . . . . once. Regular readers (and I’m sure you’re all regular in your own way) learned of my near panic about a week ago when the stabbing pain set in when I tried to sip iced tea. Every tooth that has parted company with my mouth over the last 20 years has departed with a modicum of discomfort, but not like the most recent one. It was so challenging I drank no iced tea for Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday I simply drank it and put up witht he discomfort. Big freaking deal! It wasn’t like a finger was hanging on by a ligament. I just sipped gently, was able to block its path to the sensitive area and when that proved impossible a few times, I just endured it for the eight or nine seconds it took to pass.
I was relieved late Thursday when I discovered I could drink iced tea after the ice had melted and the tea had warmed a mite. Friday, I drank icy tea with no pain at all. I should have known then the nerve had died and I was hours away from being lighter by one tooth, but it didn’t occur to me. I went to bed late Friday simply grateful for another day.
I’m also just glad as heck I didn’t swallow it Nothing even snapped. One second the brush intentionally contacted it (even LOOSE teeth should be brushed, ya know) and the next second it had slipped the surly bonds of gum and I was scrutinizing it twixt tooth pasty thumb and forefinger.
And kids, I could have avoided all this if I had listenened to Mom and Dad.
I attended the Carillon Art Festival anyhoo, and the reception at the Prairie Art Alliance a few hours later, and took some fine pictures, chatted with some excellent people. I simply decided to be smooth and urbane, and if I must look like White Trash from the wrong side of the coal mine, as better men would say, “That’s just the breaks of Naval Aviation.” Yes, I know that makes absoutely no sense until you understand that’s what US Navy fliers used to day (maybe they still do) when a friend doesn’t walk away from an unhappy impact with unforgiving Fate.
Hell YES, I’m embarrassed! But I’ll drink the wine, and I will eat the finger food, I will recite the poetry and sing my songs and write my wrds o’ wizdum just the frikking same, thankyouverymuch.
And I’lll fix things when I find an employer.
Live long . . . . and proper.
