“The Fine Print”, by M.H.
Schrader
It’s That Time Again!
It’s amazing how quickly time passes,
isn’t it? It seems like only yesterday
that the Journal was born, and now
here it is, one year and 52 issues later, and the Journal is beginning its second year.
It seems like only yesterday that
daughter Genevieve was born, now here she is, one year old and crawling about
the house like nobody’s business.
It seems like only yesterday that the
family Schrader bought its current house, and now its been over two years,
which, by the way, is a record for the family Schrader for living at any one
address.
It seems like only yesterday that I was a
free (oops! I mean unmarried) man, and it has now been over seven years. It’s been unbelievable how quickly the years
have passed. (Of course, I could give
you some nonsense about how when you’re in love, you lose track of time, but,
confidentially, I lost track of time before I was in love, too.)
It seems like only yesterday that I had
my last dental appointment, and yet now the time has come again. The past six months went by in a hurry.
It’s not that I don’t like to go the
dentist as a rule. It’s that I know the
usual spiels that I will get when I go.
You know the one. “Mr. Schrader, you need to floss more.” “Mr. Schrader, you need to eat healthy foods
like carrots.” “Mr. Schrader, you need
to stop drinking so much coffee!”
I’ve heard it so many times, I can recite
it in my sleep. Or at least, I can
recite it to the hygienist. Which of
course saves us both a lot of time and aggravation. She doesn’t have to waste time reciting it, only to get annoyed
because it’s obvious that I don’t listen; I don’t have to waste time listening,
only to get annoyed because I’ve had to hear the same thing for the zillionth time. I’ve got to message; just get on with the
teeth cleaning, okay?
Of course, I’ve got to admit, that over
the years, despite the semi-annual recitation of the dental hygienists’ creed,
going to the dentist has become an almost pleasurable experience. At least I’m not frightened anymore. Which is more than I can say about visits to
my first few dentists.
One dentist I went to had his offices way
up in one of those really tall buildings.
Of course, it was high enough up that walking was not really a practical
solution, unless, of course, one was considering suicide, as such a climb
usually resulted in heart palpitations for the climber. Being one who liked my life, I always chose
to take the elevator. It wasn’t until I
reached adulthood that I understood why people on the elevator always snickered
when I would tell them what dentist I was going to.
It was one of those snickers that was a
sympathy snicker. You know, a “tsk,
tsk” kind of snicker. If I had been a
little more astute when I was a youth, I would have noticed the “Oh, you poor
boy. You went to see him? And you lived to tell about it?” look on
their faces. They knew what lay in
store for me with each and every dental visit.
What did lay in store for me, you may
ask? Well, a whole lot of fillings and
no Novocain. After all, real men don’t
use Novocain. Especially if his dentist
is shipping off the profits from not using Novocain to support a cause
overseas.
Mrs. Schrader, who is only two years my
junior, has absolutely no cavities. None. Zippo.
In fact, she would probably go into an immediate state of shock if she
ever did get one. I, on the other hand,
have enough silver in my mouth to decorate a Christmas tree. In fact, it’s the rare tooth in my mouth
that isn’t filled.
Later dentists have commented that I
probably did not need most of my teeth to be filled. But, what’s the use in supporting an overseas cause with the
profits made from not using Novocain if you don’t have any instances to not use
it?
So, needless to say, my teeth were
sacrificed for the betterment of people that I have never met in a place that I
have never been. When they used to tell
me that each and every one of us were to give a little of our self for the
betterment of the world, I never dreamed that they meant it literally! I’ve given my teeth; what are you going to
give?