Papaw's Teeth

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Ecclesiastes
John August Swanson, 1979

There is a season for everything under heaven as we read in Ecclesiastes. As is true in most lives we often see more of one side of this equation than the other. We would like to think that there is a balance and there will be just as much laughing as there is weeping, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Papaw experienced this too, specifically for him, losing. He spent a significant portion of his life losing things, and we spent much of ours seeking them.

I believe that Papaw even began to find a level of humor in this situation himself. When I was in my 20’s I was staying at the farmhouse for the night with my grandparents. As was our normal routine we ate dinner, watched a little TV, and then close to bedtime we all seemed to gravitate toward the kitchen for no particular reason. Several of us were talking about the day’s events and only moderately embellishing our greatness in the process. Meanwhile, I noticed Papaw doing something that looked a little odd out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t quite catch what he was doing, but it looked like he put something upon on the window sash and it didn’t make any sense to me. “Papaw, what are you doing?” I inquired.

“I’m a takin’ my watch off and puttin’ it up here,” he replied as if he did that every day.

Still not quite getting it, I asked, “Why you doin’ that?”

“It gives me somethin’ to do in the mornin’”

“Oh, ok,” as if I actually understood what he was talking about, “what’s that?”

“Find my watch,” as he placed it at the back end of the window sash.

Papaw, like many adults of his generation, wore false teeth. However, he never really grasped the concept of how to keep up with where his teeth were. The places they ended up over the years became a thing of legend. There are two particular cases, however, that seem to top them all.

Although Papaw had false teeth, he rarely put them in his mouth. More often than not, he would put them somewhere for safekeeping, and then end up forgetting where he left them. One of his favorite places for putting his teeth so that he would remember where they were was his shirt pocket, but even that was tough to remember, and often problematic.

Papaw and Mamaw often took journeys to visit family and friends all across the region. On one trip they were going to visit my uncle, Bill, and his family on the other side of the state. Every trip for Papaw and Mamaw, even to the grocery store, required meticulous planning and preparation. Papaw would check the gas; luckily the days of having to do that with a stick had passed. He would check the tire pressure. He would check the oil level; the days of a stick are still here for this one. He would check the battery water level, and make sure that the windshield washer fluid was full.  No check was left undone, and that was just to go to the grocery store. You can just imagine how much effort he went to in order to drive three hours to my uncle’s home. With all that checked, and an old frozen concentrate orange juice can for a spittoon in hand, he was ready for a trip of any length.

Mamaw and Papaw climbed into the car and headed out down the highway. Usually, they would stop about half way for a bathroom break, and another meticulous check of the car’s systems. Papaw would wonder around, strike up a conversation with the station attendant, pick up a few sticks (another story for another time), check the oil and get back on the road. Nothing was different on this trip. About halfway to my uncle’s, they stopped for their usual break and Papaw made his usual checks then they were back on the road. He would drive, Mamaw would scold him about how fast he was going, and he would ignore her; everything situation normal.

A couple of hours later they arrived at my uncle’s. No greeting was complete without plenty hugs and kisses. My uncle and my cousins helped unload their suitcases, while Papaw settled in on the back porch with a nice tall glass of iced tea; and yes, of course the tea here is sweetened – how else would we drink it. Papaw would settle in and survey the garden. He closely scrutinized the garden to ensure that the potatoes and the onions were placed in proper proximity to one another. Otherwise, the onion would get in the potato’s eyes and make it cry. Papaw would enjoy telling my uncle about how well his tomatoes were starting to come in, and how beautiful the new calf was back home. Papaw’s garden and his cattle were a constant source of pride for him.

Sometime later, my aunt announced that dinner was ready. Although Papaw always enjoyed eating, never once did he partake in the preparation of the meal, and definitely not the cleaning up afterwards. This to him, of course, was woman’s work, and he had no part of that. Upon the announcement of the dinner bell, Papaw and my uncle started making their way in to the table. Papaw would always pull his wad of Red Man chewing tobacco out of his mouth and throw it into the yard. Then he would hack and spit and sputter to get the last remnants of tobacco from his mouth – no doubt this was a tremendous source of embarrassment and amusement for my aunt and my cousins. Papaw would then reach into his pocket, retrieve his teeth, and put them in. Everything went well until this last step when his teeth weren’t in his pocket where they were expected to be.

An all-out search was launched to find the teeth. Papaw was such a creature of habit that it was only a matter of time before the elusive teeth would either be found, or determined to be part of the garden where he would have inevitably plowed them under as had happened to so many other sets of teeth, wallets, and other items of importance. Everyone was fairly confident that the teeth had fallen from his pocket, so they started retracing his steps. They checked the bathroom, and yes in the toilet too – no luck. They checked around the garden – no luck. They checked between the cushions on the sofa – no luck. They checked his jacket pocket – no luck. They checked the trunk of the car – no luck. They checked the driver’s compartment – no luck. They were about to give up when my grandmother remembered that Papaw had previously checked the oil. They thought that it was crazy to consider that possibility, but they tried anyway, and wouldn’t you know it there were a set of uppers there – probably not something that most mechanics would expect to find under the hood of a Buick, but they don’t know Papaw. The last time that he had checked the oil the teeth had fallen from his pocket and landed on the wheel well of the car, and had somehow stayed put for another two hours of driving. The people that talk about a cat riding on the wheel well for two hours think they have something.

Just as if nothing had ever happened, Papaw took the teeth, said thank you, ran a small amount of water over them and popped them in. Nothing ever really fazed him when it came to his teeth; he just rolled with the punches. Then he sat down and enjoyed another terrific meal that my aunt, Eunice, had prepared.

Papaw’s teeth disappearing, and not noticed until it was time to eat, was not confined to travel. He could just as easily stay within the confines of his home and completely lose track of them. It could either be just him and my grandmother there, or the entire clan could be gathered for Thanksgiving lunch and they would disappear just as quickly. No event was too mundane or too sacred for the elusive teeth to go missing yet once more.

Thanksgiving is always a time when our family gathers to give thanks to God for all his bountiful blessings. The common love our family shares is a bond that few actually understand, even us. Some of us may not have seen each other for a year or more, but it is as if we never were separated when we come back together to break bread, say prayers, and enjoy the fellowship of our family.  All of the cousins are as close as brother and sister, and each cousin has multiple parents in the respective aunts and uncles. Family gatherings, like this, are never complete without adding in some of our close friends as well.  Friends that spend Thanksgiving with us are never disappointed with the camaraderie or the food. The stories that we share around the table with those gathered have become part of our family lore, and at least a good portion of them are even true. These friends that gather with us are usually taken aback by the closeness of such an extended family that they don’t know what to do, but we do – we love them. They arrive as strangers and are always shown more love than they have ever experienced. Then they clamor to return with us again and again; only as close as family after that in love.

Even though there are forty or more people gathered for lunch, we all try to gather in the kitchen for our prayer. We spend what seems to be an interminable amount of time trying to squeeze forty people into a space designed for five. We join hands, and offer up a prayer of Thanksgiving for such a wonderful family and for all that God has given us. Then we depart from the divine and demonstrate gluttony and savagery to new heights, all except Papaw.

Papaw would calmly go find his chair and sit down. My grandmother, being the saint that she was, would prepare a plate for him and bring it to him. She would make sure that he had his knife and fork, his napkin, and his glass of iced tea. Then she would find her way back to the kitchen to worry about everyone else but herself. Eventually, she would find her own way to the table to enjoy her lunch, which would rarely feed even a small bird. However, this time she noticed that Papaw was not eating when she gave him his lunch. He simply sat there with a tremendously forlorn face and didn’t eat.  Mamaw quietly held his arm and said, “Philip, what’s wrong?”

In words that I will never forget, Papaw responded, “I can’t find my teeth.”

As sad as it was, it was still humorous. Actually, the collective eruption of laughter convinced our guests that day that we were a bunch of heartless sadists to laugh at the misfortune of that “poor old man;” oh, if they only knew. However, at the time, it wasn’t very funny to Papaw. He had a beautiful plate of food in front of him, and no way to do anything about it; he was defenseless. My grandmother, God bless her, was a resourceful woman. She announced, “I got a hundred dollars for the first grandbaby that finds Papaw’s teeth.” She knew from previous experience, way too many times, that they cost $200 to replace.

There really is nothing quite like the allure of a “C” note to get my cousins moving. All of us started searching. We looked everywhere. I had cousins searching all of the seat cushions, the beds, the trashcan, the toilet, and even the burn barrel. We knew our Papaw, the crazy things he would do, the crazy places he would go, and what may have seemed absurd to our guests that Thanksgiving was routine for us. We were determined that we were going to get that hundred dollars. Like most people though, we simply acted then thought rather than think then act – except Kelley.

Kelley searched along with everyone else, but mentally began to trace Papaw’s steps in her mind. She remembered that he had gone out to feed the dogs and cats and checked to see if the dog had any extra teeth; you can’t imagine how funny an old farm dog looks with a new set of uppers in his mouth. Then she remembered Papaw checking the mail, and looked in the mailbox to see if he had tried to send them parcel post. Step by step, Kelley slowly retraced his steps. The one important thing in retracing Papaw’s steps was to not allow logic to intervene. Just because it doesn’t seem logical for him to have put his teeth in the mailbox doesn’t mean you should rule it out. Using this course of thinking, Kelley remembered that Papaw had been drinking a glass of iced tea earlier in the day.

Papaw drinking a plastic tumbler of ice tea during the day was common. He would take a few sips then put it back in the fridge for safe keeping. Then a few hours later, he would go back for another few sips. Kelley, not following a sense of logic, checked the fridge for one of Papaw’s tumblers of tea, and found one. Then she looked in the glass and, voila, there were Papaw’s teeth. Papaw was extremely appreciative, and Kelley had a “C” note for her efforts.

Teeth in tumblers, teeth on a wheel well, teeth in a burn barrel, or any other place was part of our life – it was normal and common, and the way we lived. The one place that you rarely found Papaw’s teeth, however, was in his mouth. As odd as that sounds, it is the truth. The statement that you could almost always count on hearing from Mamaw was, “Philip, spit that tobacco out, put your teeth in, and get in here – church is about to begin.”