I watched dad’s teeth turn green and slowly fall out . . . uppers first. He started complain’ about a fish bone got stuck up in there . . . in his gum. He pushed on the tooth with his finger “See that thang wobble?” He drank a 12 pack, tied one end of a string around the bathroom door knob and the other end around his left central incisor and just “jerked her out.” The other front tooth fell out about a month later and when he smiled, it broke my heart. Mom’s just started goin’ every which way in her mouth, gettin’ long and migratory. Her breath could stop a charging buffalo. And the infections. Sometimes she could hardly get outta bed. He cursed her good but he drove her over there. The dentist pulled so many that time. She got herself new uppers with her cleanin’ money. She was so proud of her new teeth and she tried to smile alot but it didn’t look like a smile . . . more like she was just curlin’ her upper lip back. I think mom has three teeth left now. She goes after them diligently with implements like the dentist instructed . . . they anchor the dentures and keep the clicking to a minimum. Ralphie talks alot about how we never had brushes or paste when we were little. His teeth are snappin’ off now . . . front uppers . . . molars rottening. “Use a rag,” dad would growl if we asked for a tooth brush. But I do remember once we got a great big old tube of Crest. We all immediately memorized the words on the box and then hopped around the house repeating, “Crest has been shown to be an effective decay preventative dentifrice that can be of significant value when used in a conscientiously applied program of oral hygiene and regular professional care.” “Dis ees causing too much trooble,” mom says as she grabs the tooth paste. She hid it some where and later yelled at dad, “Vy did you haf to bring dat toot paste, St. John dey hat schqueezed it everywhere?”