David Attenborough reciting Louis Armstrong’s lyrics as audio to images from his documentaries.
For about two seconds this seems hokey. By the end my eyes and my heart were full.
It’s good sometimes to stop and remember what a complex and beautiful and joyous planet we share.
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
Hey, hobo man; hey Dapper Dan,
You’ve both got your style, but brother,
You’re never fully dressed without a smile!-Little Orphan Annie
I know the title to this post has my brother cringing— he was born in 1983. Nothing to do with you, brother o’mine, go on about your day.
No, in 1983 my front teeth came in, big ol’ horse teeth. I have, as I have been repeatedly told by dentists, technicians, orthodontists and oral surgeons, the smallest mouth on God’s green earth, and there just wasn’t room for those big honkin’ horse teeth along my jawline. Over the years, my teeth kept getting more crowded and shifting at weird angles.
Recently an acquaintance of mine said to me, “It was nice seeing you smile yesterday for a change.”
Like any normal human being, I responded with, “I’m quite sure I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
They countered:
“I like when you smile. You’re always hiding your braces, who cares, so what, you have braces. You have a nice smile. You should smile more.”
If you know me at all, you’ll realize that by this point I was hugely uncomfortable, highly irritated and frantically looking for ways to escape the conversation. I don’t take compliments well, especially when couched in cryptic statements that imply people have been watching and analyzing my behavior.
But a few days later, seeing a photo of myself, I realized what they were talking about. Smiling with my mouth closed is a habit I’ve had since I was seven years old. I’m not hiding my braces; my acquaintance just assumed that was the case because they didn’t know me before I had braces.
I’m hiding my bad teeth. And I’ve been doing it since 1983.
I haven’t really smiled— freely, unabashedly, unself-consciously— in 28 years. What I do is this weird tightening of the mouth, a slight lifting at the corners, that makes me look weird and mean.
summer 2011
I got braces to fix the severe TMJ I’d been suffering since my oral surgeon royally screwed my jaw taking out my wisdom teeth. My orthodontist made no promises, but said it might lessen the pain that I dealt with 24/7, pain that spread through my neck and shoulders as I subconsciously held my jaw just so. And that slight flicker of hope caused me to sob right there in his office, in front of perfect strangers.
At over $5K out of pocket, these braces are the most expensive thing I’ve ever purchased for myself. I can’t even explain how hard it was for me to spend that money on something only I could possibly benefit from. And the first few months were soul-killing, when I realized that I had in effect traded one sort of chronic pain for another.
The pain has long since eased. I’ve been wearing these things around for over a year now and it’s only just occurred to me that my teeth look better. I know, I’m super dumb. When I saw this picture of me with the Bangles that DelCoPA Mom took, my thought was totally that it didn’t look too bad in spite of my braces. As evidenced by the caption I wrote for it.
The logical follow-up to that thought, that the reason it didn’t look too bad was because my dang teeth are straighter because of my braces? Never entered my addled brain. Until now.
Which is my lengthy, labyrinthine way of saying… you can’t put the tiger back in the cage. I’ve got my smile on and you’re gonna be seeing lots of it.
And if you think I’m being obnoxious now… just wait another 8-10 months, when these bad boys come off.
This is not a paid post or a sponsored post, and I waffled quite a bit about whether I should publish it at all. I don’t advocate taking a lot of stock in your personal appearance.
But I DO DO DO advocate taking time for you, to refill your center so that you can give of yourself in abundance.
And I DO DO DO advocate vocalizing those little compliments to others. Even though I was put off by this one at first, it caused a huge mental breakthrough for me.
This post is a major spontaneous heartfelt shoutout to Dr. Honig and his awesome technicians, and heck, his wonderfully supportive office staff too. Because they brought me to a life without unrelenting pain and made me feel better about myself in the process.
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When was the last time you did something selfishly, just for yourself? It’s cool. Sometimes you need to do that. Own it.
What was the last unexpected nice thing someone said to you?
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,”
grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.-Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
335 days of the year, you’ll hear me harp on how bad TV is for your brain and how you should really be shutting it off, getting outside and moving your body.
But 30 days of the year, I love TV.
No screen time on school nights? Pshaw, in December I’m breaking all the rules.
The specials are on.
It starts on Thanksgiving Day with the parades, flipping back and forth between Macy’s and the Mummers. (It has recently come to my attention that not every town has grown men that dress up like fancy chickens and strut the streets playing strings and brass. If you don’t know what a Mummer is click here and enjoy… this is how we do parades here in PA.)
Thanksgiving 2011 also meant A Miracle on 34th St.— the Natalie Wood version, black and white, don’t try to tell me any other exists— and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.
As we near the big day, the coming of the man in red, I’ll insist on steaming up the hot cocoa, popping up the corn and watching:
The holiday TV special extravaganza ends with It’s a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve. I let the kids stay up to watch it and we all snuggle under blankets and struggle to keep awake until the end.
Last year, Cassie stayed up for the first time to see it, and she was so emotionally captivated by the story that I fell wholeheartedly in love with it all over again.
We grow so jaded, throughout the year and as we grow older. It’s a Wonderful Life in particular is such a regular, clockwork comfort that it has become a cliché. I don’t remember ever being saddened by it. But to Cass’s fresh eyes, it was an engrossing and heartwrenching story, and she sobbed with sadness and then with joy.
In my first Comparative Religions class, we learned that “ritual” is a returning to a sacred time and place. Not just symbolically, but in some way a literal joining of those times and spaces.
They may be so much pop culture schmaltz, but those familiar faces and voices and words that come from the screen are a ritual of my childhood. They reopen a door to my childlike mind, so excited and hopeful for the holidays ahead.
They remind me of what it was like to believe. In magic, and in humanity.
I revisit my childhood while snuggled with my children; my hope is that they may carry these same memories into their own adulthood and share them with their own children. It is, in some strange way, a gift.
We have other rituals, some from my upbringing, some new, but no other that brings me so much comfort on so many levels.
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We never had much money when I was a kid, but I never noticed at Christmastime. There must have been some years when I was disappointed, but I don’t recall any.
What I recall are the rituals, the hot chocolate, the warm blankets and the crackle of the fire.
The memories of comfort, security, hope and love.
As we swing into the hustle and bustle of the season, I hope we all stop to ask ourselves what memories we are creating for our kids; what moments they will choose to return to year after year.
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” Jo grumbled, but she discovered she was wrong.
The Grinch found that Christmas couldn’t be bought from a store.
The ever cynical Garfield takes a sentimental moment to remind us that “it’s not the giving, it’s not the getting. It’s the loving.”
Take away the presents. What makes Christmas Christmas? What makes the holiday season merry and bright for you?
(What’s your favorite Christmas special?)