I got a call from my Aunt Winnie today. This is the first time she has called me in, and this is just an estimate, at least fifteen years. I’ve seen her a few times during this span but, clearly, we don’t talk often.
She had some basic questions for me about homelessness and substance abuse and, as we chatted, she started sharing stories with me about some of our relatives.
Many years ago her son, who had a ‘flipper tooth,’ was living and working on a boat in Northern Alaska. “He got really seasick and would throw up all of the time. In fact, one time he threw up his flipper tooth. That was expensive,” she said. “I remember that flipper tooth. Remember the wedding? You were so worried that he would purposely leave his flipper tooth home so he would be missing a tooth in the family photo,” I reminded her. “Oh, yes, I remember that well,” she replied.
Our conversation then moved to nursing homes; the flipper tooth was a nice transition. On one occasion, when visiting my great grandma, an elderly male resident with dementia offered to ‘valet’ our car. The staff quickly put a stop to this. “You remember Grandmas was partially blind, right?” Aunt Winnie asked and continued on with a story, “Well there was one bathroom for every two rooms and one day she made her way into the bathroom, lifted up her nightgown, and sat down on top of a male resident who was using the toilet.” The man flipped out. Whether or not his teeth did, I have no idea.