So... it had been a few years since I'd seen the dentist. (Like before Vivi was conceived to be exact) Initially, I was kind of dreading the consequences of such neglect to my "pearly whites"...errrr "pearly off-white/slightly yellowed from coffee" teeth. And sure enough, first visit, WITHOUT even taking an x-ray (because of pregnancy) he spotted 3 cavities in 3 totally different places which would constitute 3 different visits for drilling, filling, and the like. "CRAP!", I thought. This is going to really stink. So, I schedule the first of the three meetings with the Dr. and left kicking myself (actually just mentally chastising myself as doing anything that might require any more athletic prowess than walking may or may not result in serious injury). Seriously. Getting up after sitting for about 30 minutes requires slow and strategic movement. I look like a geriatric. Can anyone say "ligament stretching"? HELLO!
The first visit rolls around. Sitter for Vivi? Check. Brush, floss, gargle? Check. Clear of boogers? Check. Eyebrows tweezed? Check. Mustache plucked? Check. Spritz of very light perfume to help mask possible death breath of dentist or assistant? Check. No garlic, onion, coffee, spinach, anchovy, or blue cheese funky breath lingering from last night's dinner? Check. Phew... so much to think about. So there I am in the waiting room looking and smelling better than I probably had in WEEKS. Anyone who is not socially handicapped and has any self awareness at ALL knows that you must be on top of your hygienic game in every possible arena as going to the dentist puts you physically closer to perfect strangers than even a regular doctor's visit.
So I'm sitting there... cozy waiting room with magazines GALORE! Comfy chair... perfectly quiet. Alone... and I realize. This is like an oasis... a mini vacation in disguise. The desire for me to get in and get out as quickly as possible melted away as I realized I'd read three quarters of an article on womens' health with no interruption! I really couldn't recall the last time this had happened. Soon the nice dental assistant asked me to come to the back... they were ready for me. I walk back... they put me in a nice reclining chair (still had my magazine) and then THEY put a bib on ME!?! "Interesting" I thought. And what's this??? I look up and see a t.v. on a cooking channel! Eureka! I'm in heaven. They were running a few minutes behind and kept coming in to apologize for the wait... each time they came in I grew increasingly annoyed. NOT because I was waiting but because they kept interrupting my damn show! I wanted to say, "could you just shut up!" But I smiled politely and said, "No, worries."
Then the doc comes in... giant needle in hand. Little pinch here, little pull there and he's off again saying, "let's just give that a few minutes to work it's magic". I sat there with a crooked smile (from already feeling numb) and thought "thith ith friggin thweet! Pleath thtay gone ath long ath you need to". I continued to watch my show as I drooled onto my bib. "Thith ith alright", I thought. I even thought about fibbing a little and telling him I wasn't quite numb when he came back in... but the fact that the right side of my face was now resting in my cleavage probably gave me away. CURSES! He began to do his thing and drill! Mists of water and bits of tooth were flying everywhere. All I could think of was tilting my head just right so as to be able to see the t.v. between his right ear and the top of his hand doing the work. I think he thought I was pulling away because I didn't like the drilling... quite the contrary, I enjoy somebody grooming me even if it is using a mini jackhammer on my chompers so aggressively it makes my brain rattle... at least someone is grooming ME! I just wanted to see my show. Then the inevitable, "tilt your head towards me please". DANG IT!!!! I was just about to find out how to make the perfect pesto and brie or d' oeuvre!!
I love when the dentist leans in really close and I can literally see my tonsils in his little safety glasses... I always try to count the number of stray eyebrow hairs and nose hairs to pass the time. I'm sure he thinks I'm psychotic... either that or trying to make a pass at him. Nope, just counting rogue hairs, my friend. They finished their business and my brief respite from mommy responsibilities came to a screeching halt as I left my recliner. It was a sad moment. But, as I walked to the front I thought to myself, "Two more vithits... yetttthhhh." I was probably the perkiest patient they'd had in awhile. I left looking forward to more uninterrupted articles, cooking shows, and reclining chairs. Weird, huh?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Tribute: John Selwyn Grover November 3, 1905 - Memorial Day, 2010
John Selwyn Grover, my great grandpa, passed away this week in Liberal, KS at the age of 104. He was at home, surrounded by family and in his own bed. He didn't just live to be 104 years of age but was of healthy mind until the day he passed. His body only began to become weak a few months before. A remarkable man. This lengthy accomplishment is not the only thing that set him apart from others.
He was born in 1905 and as a young boy traveled by mule and covered wagon across country, visiting a handful of states. His father ultimately decided that homesteading in Kansas was their best option as the land in Colorado was "no good" for farming at the time. His life began in a time a place where the words "luxury" and "convenience" was never a part of his vocabulary. By the time the "dirty 30's" rolled around he was a man in his mid-20's with a wife and three children. John, Don, and Valena (my grandmother). Being a successful farmer all his life, the Great Depression was a time of great change for him. He would tell us that there wasn't a single crop to be harvested for 7 years. During that time he took up several jobs to get by. One being a custodian at the local courthouse. One can only imagine how much income that brought in at the time. During the hard times he actually borrowed money from the bank to pay his tithe. God always came first. As people moved elsewhere, primarily west, he was often asked if he was worried. He simply replied, "The land was good at one time. It will be good again one day." The dust eventually settled and he ultimately started buying up land for pennies on the dollar. I'm sure there were people wondering about his sanity at the time. Many thought the land would never be farmed again. To see his sprawling, fertile property today is breathtaking. Even moreso knowing it was once covered in black clouds a mile high and several miles wide. Unfathomable. He always had hope.
He saw a plane for the first time as a young boy working in the fields, watched the first car ever made put down roads that were once only occupied by horse and wagon, was around 40 years old when World War II started, felt the rush of having electricity and running water for the first time as an adult, saw a man land on the moon, witnessed the chaos of the Vietnam War in his 60's, saw the Berlin Wall come down and so many other pivotal historical moments. Through all the joys and turmoil he experienced he had peace in his heart and hope for his fellow man.
Ever since I was a very little girl I can remember visiting Grandpa John to be special times, no matter how often or seldom we saw him. He would walk in and all eyes were on him. Standing at about 6 feet 3 inches (maybe a bit less as he got older) wearing a black felt cowboy hat, turquoise belt buckle and bolero, a pearl snap shirt, a size 16 shoe (holy cow), and ALWAYS a smile. He had a shock of black hair that I remember stayed almost free of grays until he was well into his 90's. Again, unbelievable. At his 103rd birthday he told my husband of the challenges he faced during the 30's as my daughter, Vivienne, sat in his lap at only 2 months old. Vivienne was held and loved on my her Great Great Grandfather. Again, I'm in awe. Of course, this was nothing new to him as he is survived by 30 something great grandchildren and almost a dozen great great grandchildren.
We arrived in Liberal on Thursday, June 3rd for his funeral. It was held at Faith Tabernacle, the church he attended faithfully for many years. The family was seated in the front as is customary to do. The family took up quite a bit of space as you can imagine. However, it wasn't until I stood to say a few words that I realized how many lives he had touched. The sanctuary was packed to the very back with many people standing. And what do you know? There was also a balcony, packed... not to mention the overflow room outside of the sanctuary where other friends had gathered to watch the service that was being projected on a large screen. I was kind of dumbstruck. One after one people walked to the front, perfect strangers to me, and told stories of a man who held his arms open to perfect strangers and showed love to those whom felt they didn't deserve it. Stories I had never heard. I thought to myself, "All these people had their lives touched by him, how many more were there that passed long before him." The possible number seemed staggering. The theme of each short speech seemed similar, "selflessness, love, grace, open arms, generosity, hopeful, man of peace, loved Jesus, hard worker, proud of his family, and a man who knew that time was valuable." I felt small and insignificant.
I came home and squeezed my daughter after not seeing her for two days. It hit me. "What kind of legacy would Graham and I leave for her?" "What would people remember and know about me when I go." My great grandfather left some pretty big shoes to fill (size 16 shoes to be exact). I began to feel overwhelmed with responsibility. After some pondering I realized his legacy was an accumulation of what he decided to do with each and every tiny encounter in his life. Each person he met, each stranger was approached as someone special, an individual. Not just a face in a crowd. How many of us feel like we don't have the time or patience to do that? I am guilty. But we can all make a solid effort to change.
My Grandpa John always said, "Time is valuable." With 104 years under his belt, and not a moment of it wasted... he left this world a very rich man. I can't imagine the treasure that awaited him in heaven. Which begs the question, "How much time do we waste chasing the wrong kind of riches?" I'll be thinking about this for some time to come.
So much more time and many more words could be used to tell the stories and experiences of his life and the magnitude of his impact in his corner of the world. For now, I will just say:
We love and miss you already Grandpa John. Thank you for the life you lived, the love you shared, and the example you gave all of us. We will see you again.
He was born in 1905 and as a young boy traveled by mule and covered wagon across country, visiting a handful of states. His father ultimately decided that homesteading in Kansas was their best option as the land in Colorado was "no good" for farming at the time. His life began in a time a place where the words "luxury" and "convenience" was never a part of his vocabulary. By the time the "dirty 30's" rolled around he was a man in his mid-20's with a wife and three children. John, Don, and Valena (my grandmother). Being a successful farmer all his life, the Great Depression was a time of great change for him. He would tell us that there wasn't a single crop to be harvested for 7 years. During that time he took up several jobs to get by. One being a custodian at the local courthouse. One can only imagine how much income that brought in at the time. During the hard times he actually borrowed money from the bank to pay his tithe. God always came first. As people moved elsewhere, primarily west, he was often asked if he was worried. He simply replied, "The land was good at one time. It will be good again one day." The dust eventually settled and he ultimately started buying up land for pennies on the dollar. I'm sure there were people wondering about his sanity at the time. Many thought the land would never be farmed again. To see his sprawling, fertile property today is breathtaking. Even moreso knowing it was once covered in black clouds a mile high and several miles wide. Unfathomable. He always had hope.
He saw a plane for the first time as a young boy working in the fields, watched the first car ever made put down roads that were once only occupied by horse and wagon, was around 40 years old when World War II started, felt the rush of having electricity and running water for the first time as an adult, saw a man land on the moon, witnessed the chaos of the Vietnam War in his 60's, saw the Berlin Wall come down and so many other pivotal historical moments. Through all the joys and turmoil he experienced he had peace in his heart and hope for his fellow man.
Ever since I was a very little girl I can remember visiting Grandpa John to be special times, no matter how often or seldom we saw him. He would walk in and all eyes were on him. Standing at about 6 feet 3 inches (maybe a bit less as he got older) wearing a black felt cowboy hat, turquoise belt buckle and bolero, a pearl snap shirt, a size 16 shoe (holy cow), and ALWAYS a smile. He had a shock of black hair that I remember stayed almost free of grays until he was well into his 90's. Again, unbelievable. At his 103rd birthday he told my husband of the challenges he faced during the 30's as my daughter, Vivienne, sat in his lap at only 2 months old. Vivienne was held and loved on my her Great Great Grandfather. Again, I'm in awe. Of course, this was nothing new to him as he is survived by 30 something great grandchildren and almost a dozen great great grandchildren.
We arrived in Liberal on Thursday, June 3rd for his funeral. It was held at Faith Tabernacle, the church he attended faithfully for many years. The family was seated in the front as is customary to do. The family took up quite a bit of space as you can imagine. However, it wasn't until I stood to say a few words that I realized how many lives he had touched. The sanctuary was packed to the very back with many people standing. And what do you know? There was also a balcony, packed... not to mention the overflow room outside of the sanctuary where other friends had gathered to watch the service that was being projected on a large screen. I was kind of dumbstruck. One after one people walked to the front, perfect strangers to me, and told stories of a man who held his arms open to perfect strangers and showed love to those whom felt they didn't deserve it. Stories I had never heard. I thought to myself, "All these people had their lives touched by him, how many more were there that passed long before him." The possible number seemed staggering. The theme of each short speech seemed similar, "selflessness, love, grace, open arms, generosity, hopeful, man of peace, loved Jesus, hard worker, proud of his family, and a man who knew that time was valuable." I felt small and insignificant.
I came home and squeezed my daughter after not seeing her for two days. It hit me. "What kind of legacy would Graham and I leave for her?" "What would people remember and know about me when I go." My great grandfather left some pretty big shoes to fill (size 16 shoes to be exact). I began to feel overwhelmed with responsibility. After some pondering I realized his legacy was an accumulation of what he decided to do with each and every tiny encounter in his life. Each person he met, each stranger was approached as someone special, an individual. Not just a face in a crowd. How many of us feel like we don't have the time or patience to do that? I am guilty. But we can all make a solid effort to change.
My Grandpa John always said, "Time is valuable." With 104 years under his belt, and not a moment of it wasted... he left this world a very rich man. I can't imagine the treasure that awaited him in heaven. Which begs the question, "How much time do we waste chasing the wrong kind of riches?" I'll be thinking about this for some time to come.
So much more time and many more words could be used to tell the stories and experiences of his life and the magnitude of his impact in his corner of the world. For now, I will just say:
We love and miss you already Grandpa John. Thank you for the life you lived, the love you shared, and the example you gave all of us. We will see you again.
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