”A dentist at work in his vocation always looks down in the mouth.”
The morning is warm. The air is still. It will be 80° for the high, but it will get down to the 60’s tonight. That’s perfect sleeping weather. I have a few chores: watering plants inside and out, filling the bird feeders and vacuuming the Henry fur which rises into the air when I walk down the hall. I also think I’ll manage some deck time.
When I was a kid, I had an orthodontist. Back then that was not so common as it is now. His name was Doctor Nice. His office was in Boston not so far from Kenmore Square. I remember his office. It was a converted house, an old house with high ceilings on Commonwealth Ave. In the huge waiting room was his nurse and her desk, a couple of couches and chairs. Where he worked on my teeth had windows looking out to Comm Ave. He was old, at least to me. He always wore a white jacket. It was a process when I had an appointment. Usually my appointments were in the mornings. My mother would find a babysitter for my sisters, usually a neighbor. We’d walk uptown and take a bus to Sullivan Square. From there we’d ride the subway to Kenmore then walk up the street. We reversed it on the way home. I remember waiting at Sullivan Square for the bus. We’d stop at the kiosk, and I’d get a snack. Once back in Stoneham, we’d stop at the restaurant where my mother would buy me a sandwich for lunch. I’d eat as we walked to school which was half over when I got there. I remember my school pictures that year. I didn’t even open my mouth. I have that picture somewhere.
Sundays were quiet when I was growing up. Everyone I knew had a Sunday dinner. It was the special meal of the week. I remember we always had mashed potatoes. The roast was sometimes beef and sometimes chicken. The vegetables changed. My favorites were baby peas and corn, not creamed corn, but corn nuggets. I always thought creamed corn was disgusting looking. The vegetables always came from a can.
Nala is bringing in acorns and pine cones. She chews them. I stepped on an acorn the other day, and it hurt. I cursed and yelled at Nala. I’m sure she had no idea why I was yelling.
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August 11, 2024 at 4:17 pm
Hi Kat,
If you read yesterday’s weather today is a repeat.
When I was 13 my father.sent me to an orthodontist in Manhattan. His name was Dr. Greenstein who was recommended by our dentist in Dallas. Dr. Greenstein was very old. He told me that he had to travel to Europe, as a young man, to study Orthopedics. My cousin and I would take the subway from my aunt and uncle’s house in Queens. His office was located in the first floor of a large apartment building on the corner of 81st. and Central Park West. This was right across the street from the Hayden planetarium and the Museum of natural history. My appointment was always on a Saturday morning and my cousin and I would spend the afternoon in Manhattan.
While in Manhattan we would eat lunch at the Horn & Hardart Automat. We would buy a hotdog in baked beans for 25 cents and mix a glass of ice water with Lemmon juice and sugar. A poor man’s lemonade. 🙂
August 11, 2024 at 9:54 pm
Hi Bob,
I was too young to go to Boston alone. I was 8. I didn’t mind going, and I got to have lunch from a restaurant. I did not know anyone else with braces. There were no orthodontists near where we lived. My appointments were always on weekdays. I remember Doctor Nice had white hair. He must have had some money as even back then where he lived on Comm. Ave had wonderful, beautiful old houses, even brownstones. I’m sure his house is still there.