Dentures
These days I'm contemplating the image of the solider verses the veteran. Fun stuff, for the nerd in me. Particularly, I'm looking at The American Legion Magazine, and mixed within these pages of patriotic valor and dutiful honor advertisements abound. That is no surprise.
Yet, a continual theme has arisen. Advertisements for girdles, corrective footwear, and dentures abound. The dentures . . . a simple black and white photo of false teeth seems to jump off the page to startle and haunt me. Gah.
I think I was four or five when my Mom's Dad came to visit us in Washington State. Visits with grandparents are just that: filled with presents, sweets, and good stuff. Yet, Grandpa left his dentures in a glass on the back of the toilet (or maybe the bathroom sink). I did not know he had dentures. See where this one is going? I came running from the toilet with my curls flying screaming about monster teeth. Good times.
My Momma and Daddy both wear dentures these days. They lost their teeth to periodontal disease. My brother lost his teeth the fun way . . . drugs. Hey, he was the one to say he had a high time doing it. My sister wears dentures too. Oiy.
My Mom is notorious for leaving her dentures on the coffee table, the arm of the couch, or just about anywhere. I refuse to pick them up and move them. I've been known to sit on the floor rather than sit next to the teeth. My Dad likes to pop his out and scare small children, particularly when he's in a store and some tricycle motor is begging his or her parents for some sugar laden sweet. Dad also adjusts his dentures in the car, so his driver's seat has its share of denture glue. My brother . . .
Shortly after my brother got his dentures, as he went like a year with no teefs, he decided to show up my Dad with the glue. He wanted to prove that the dentures wouldn't pop out like Dad's do from time to time. Well, that lovely brother of mine put enough glue on his to seal an army. He coated the plastic, not just placing discrete lines of glue on the mold. To this day, I have a fond memory of laughing hysterically at him while he laid on our parent's couch moaning because his teeth wouldn't come out. I think it was almost a week before they popped. The image of his six foot plus frame sprawled out, him moaning, and my Mother and I snickering is still good enough to pull from the memory banks on any day for a nice chuckle.
My sister . . . she's been good to me with those. Though, I'm sure the day will come when she will do something heinous just to watch me squirm.
I was in my 20s before I knew my Dad's mother had dentures. She rarely took them out, and the only reason I found out was because Dad and Mom were showing her the joys of Efferdent. Well, Bunchi was so delighted that her teeth were sparkly white that she popped her hearing aide in a glass of Efferdent. Ya know, under the premise that it would clean it just as well so she could hear better. Yea, a week later her hearing aide was finally dried out. Mom and Dad both have hearing aides too, and they have a dryer for them. Even better times.
Perhaps I should be more worried about the state of my family's genes . . . The numbers of denture wearers are pretty high. Yet, all this Legion research is making me think that my Grandfather, Mom, Dad, and sister are all veterans. Aside from my ponderies on commodifying the veteran via memorabilia, and how the soldier goes seemingly instantly to an aged man in popular memory, I am seeing a trend. I finally have it.
The image of the soldier verses the veteran is all about the dentures.
For the record, I still have my pearly whites thank-you very much.
Yet, a continual theme has arisen. Advertisements for girdles, corrective footwear, and dentures abound. The dentures . . . a simple black and white photo of false teeth seems to jump off the page to startle and haunt me. Gah.
I think I was four or five when my Mom's Dad came to visit us in Washington State. Visits with grandparents are just that: filled with presents, sweets, and good stuff. Yet, Grandpa left his dentures in a glass on the back of the toilet (or maybe the bathroom sink). I did not know he had dentures. See where this one is going? I came running from the toilet with my curls flying screaming about monster teeth. Good times.
My Momma and Daddy both wear dentures these days. They lost their teeth to periodontal disease. My brother lost his teeth the fun way . . . drugs. Hey, he was the one to say he had a high time doing it. My sister wears dentures too. Oiy.
My Mom is notorious for leaving her dentures on the coffee table, the arm of the couch, or just about anywhere. I refuse to pick them up and move them. I've been known to sit on the floor rather than sit next to the teeth. My Dad likes to pop his out and scare small children, particularly when he's in a store and some tricycle motor is begging his or her parents for some sugar laden sweet. Dad also adjusts his dentures in the car, so his driver's seat has its share of denture glue. My brother . . .
Shortly after my brother got his dentures, as he went like a year with no teefs, he decided to show up my Dad with the glue. He wanted to prove that the dentures wouldn't pop out like Dad's do from time to time. Well, that lovely brother of mine put enough glue on his to seal an army. He coated the plastic, not just placing discrete lines of glue on the mold. To this day, I have a fond memory of laughing hysterically at him while he laid on our parent's couch moaning because his teeth wouldn't come out. I think it was almost a week before they popped. The image of his six foot plus frame sprawled out, him moaning, and my Mother and I snickering is still good enough to pull from the memory banks on any day for a nice chuckle.
My sister . . . she's been good to me with those. Though, I'm sure the day will come when she will do something heinous just to watch me squirm.
I was in my 20s before I knew my Dad's mother had dentures. She rarely took them out, and the only reason I found out was because Dad and Mom were showing her the joys of Efferdent. Well, Bunchi was so delighted that her teeth were sparkly white that she popped her hearing aide in a glass of Efferdent. Ya know, under the premise that it would clean it just as well so she could hear better. Yea, a week later her hearing aide was finally dried out. Mom and Dad both have hearing aides too, and they have a dryer for them. Even better times.
Perhaps I should be more worried about the state of my family's genes . . . The numbers of denture wearers are pretty high. Yet, all this Legion research is making me think that my Grandfather, Mom, Dad, and sister are all veterans. Aside from my ponderies on commodifying the veteran via memorabilia, and how the soldier goes seemingly instantly to an aged man in popular memory, I am seeing a trend. I finally have it.
The image of the soldier verses the veteran is all about the dentures.
For the record, I still have my pearly whites thank-you very much.
Comments