My father suffered many years with bad teeth. The day he finally came home with his perfectly straight, perfectly white store bought choppers he was bursting with pride. He grinned big and wide, snapped his teeth together for all of us to see, and exclaimed — repeatedly — how wonderful they were.
Within the hour of his return home, dad announced that he was hungry. Judy, my step-brother’s wife, and I were preparing lunch. I was slicing tomatoes. Judy was mixing a bowl of tuna. Dad approached us.
“What’s for lunch, Jude?” He asked while looking over Judy’s shoulder. His teeth slipped from his mouth and landed in the tuna bowl. Without missing a beat Judy poked him in the solar plexus with the bowl and said, “Well, Pops, you’re having this, but I think we’ll all be eating something else.”