Dental Recreation

Because my boy Hank had a November birthday, he was deemed not old enough to start kindergarten, that first Fall in Ward. Sad for him: all the other town kids, except two year old baby Caitlin, trudged to the school bus stop in front of the Old Depot every weekday morning at 7:30(well, most mornings) and climbed on the bus for the roller coaster ride to Nederland. They arrived back in the same big bus about 4 in the afternoon. Hank, therefore, had to hang with the guys.

This meant riding around in pickups, making supply runs, going up into the forest to cut down standing dead trees for firewood, grilled cheese for lunch at the Old Depot, picking up an expletive-heavy vocabulary, learning to chop kindling, lots of not-much-happening time, in which to retreat into a complicated fantasy life featuring large camper trucks and small stuffed animals, while he waited for Thespia to trundle home.

The other thing he got to do, for the first time in his four + years was go to the dentist. His teeth, not yet loosening to make room for big boy choppers, were decaying at an alarming rate. I had thought he brushed his teeth adequately. Apparently not. And I, after at least four years of dental neglect and chain smoking, needed both fillings and a root canal. Hank and I began making weekly trips down the mountain to the dentist.

We had a routine. We shopped for groceries first, knowing we weren't going to feel like taking our puffy, novocained, thick-tongued selves into MegaFoods after our dental visit. Shopping included big bags of ice for the coolers, so we could also buy meat and cheese and eggs and keep them from spoiling in the car. As winter came closer, we didn't need to take the coolers into town.

After the dentist, when we had been very brave and also not bitten anyone, we stopped for gas before the trip up the mountain. Gas at that point was 23.9 cents a gallon. Cigarettes - available at the Gas N Go, were $2.50 a carton. And we got our treat: Vernor's ginger ale and a block of hot pepper jack cheese. We pinched off chunks of the cheese, gently introduced them into our swollen mouths, gave a perfunctory chomp or two, to release the flavor, and washed it all down with Vernor's. Very fine dining.

I was actually sorry when our dental work was done. Hank was no longer in danger of mouth rot. I had a beautiful gold crown covering my dead tooth. But I had enjoyed my travels with Hank, cheerful, silent, willing, eyes wide open boy that he was, and now they were done.