Talk: Feb. 2, 2025
Talk of the Town: Getting a tooth crowned doesn’t make you the king of anything by Mark LaFlamme
What day is it?
My friends, this is monumental. I use a calendar now. I’m talking a genuine, online calendar on which I can keep track of my many, many, many appointments. This is huge. I’m like an adult now. What will I being doing on April 5 at 3 in the afternoon? Let me consult my calendar and I can tell you!
April 5?
OK, according to my calendar, I’m not doing anything at all on that date. The fact is, I don’t have anything marked on my calendar yet. But I have one, and that’s what counts!
A Titan of moral support
So, the other day I was in the dentist chair having a crown put on a back tooth. You people know I how I feel about dentists — this was not a fun moment for me. But as it happened, my chair was facing a window, beyond which sat my truck, the burly Nissan Titan I have named Parabomba. A man can never act like a wimp in front of his truck, so I was perfectly stoic throughout the drilling and jabbing and hammering that went on. Show weakness in front of your truck and next thing you know, maybe that 4-wheel-drive doesn’t engage when you’re trying to climb that icy hill. Your truck judges you, man. I learned that when I started hollering all sissy like after getting stung by a bee in front of the Titan. For the following week, the truck refused to make right turns in order to punish me for my squeamish behavior. True story.
Dang it
Now that I think of it, I could have put that dentist appointment on my calendar.
Crown me
By the way, I was nearing the end of that dental operation and feeling good about my chances of surviving the ordeal. Then my dentist informed me, in a most casual way, that ohhhh no! This is just a temporary crown, mister. You’ve got to come back for the real one in just a couple weeks. I’m pretty sure the way I cussed out the dentist really impressed my truck.
This bites
While I was waiting for that crown to repair my ravaged tooth, I lived for two weeks on nothing but soup, oatmeal and yogurt. I basically ate all my meals with a straw instead of a fork. I wept openly every time I walked by the steak section at THE Hannaford. Cows everywhere pointed and laughed at me. It was rough.
I apologize
I know this column is supposed to be about local goings on and yet all I’ve done here is talk about my dental woes. My shame is great. Fact is, I didn’t get out and about much this week because for some reason, my truck wouldn’t start. Won’t look at me or tell me why, either. Seriously, it’s like having a second wife.
