Sunnyvale, California Since 1994
Opinion
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Brace yourself for a cookie-cutter smile
(By Mark W. Mayfield) Sometimes a man must challenge traditional thinking, despite inevitable ridicule from cruel critics. Noah did it when he built the ark, ignoring wisecracking neighbors who said, "There's not a cloud in the sky, Noah! Why don't you build a nice redwood deck instead?" (After the rain started, those same neighbors begged Noah for a boat ride.) Christopher Columbus did it when he theorized that the earth is round. (Modern scientists are pretty sure that he was right.) My Little League baseball coach did it when he moved me from centerfield to the pitcher's mound during the last inning of a championship game in 1970. (Baseball historians are pretty sure that my coach made a big mistake.) Today, I will challenge traditional thinking by bravely making this statement: America's orthodontists are removing our children's individuality by giving them assembly-line, cookie-cutter smiles. Before supporting that controversial statement with hard evidence, I want to erase a popular misconception. The winning home run was not my fault. I repeatedly told the coach that I was a lousy pitcher, but he put me on the mound anyway, tearfully claiming that he had no other choice because he'd depleted his supply of starting pitchers, relief pitchers, emergency pitchers and players who were willing to try pitching. Although I understand the coach's predicament, I'm sick and tired of bearing the blame for his terrible decision. Thirty-one years of hell ends today. Now let's return to my shocking indictment of America's tooth care system. I can expertly speak on this subject because both of my children spent several years in braces. Their teeth are now perfectly straight and aligned, and when my son chews his food, he no longer resembles Bugs Bunny. And that's the problem. Their smiles look like the smile of every other kid who's had braces. "So what's so bad about that?" you ask in bewilderment. That's a good question, and I will answer it from the standpoint of somebody who doesn't have an assembly-line, cookie-cutter smile. I've gone through life with my original God-given smile, which features a narrow gap between my two front teeth (technically called "chompers"). In today's world, this gap serves no useful purpose. It's simply an endearing facial feature that sets me apart from thousands of assembly-line, cookie-cutter columnists. But eons ago, when an ancient, peace-loving tribe called the Gap-Tooths roamed the earth, the opening was essential for survival. It was used to strain nutritious plankton from seawater and to accurately squirt a powerful stream of soda pop at pursuing predators, including bloodthirsty members of an enemy tribe called the Overbiters. In those early days of orthodontics, braces were fashioned from wood splinters and hemp fibers and installed with crude stone tools. They were very expensive, each set costing eight mammoth tusks and ten shiny rocks. According to paleontologists, a prehistoric orthodontist repeatedly tried to sell braces to the Gap-Tooths. He even offered to accept ten shiny rocks as a down payment and one tusk per month until the "successful completion of treatment." Fortunately, my ancestors were brilliant people who knew that closing the gap would mean certain extinction. They also knew that the greedy orthodontist was trying to get 24 tusks for an eight-tusk job. They wisely decided to keep their distinctive smiles. Here's the moral of the story: God is the best orthodontist in the universe, and if He put a gap in your smile, there's a darn good reason for it. While I'm on the subject of assembly-line, cookie-cutter smiles, I have a message for the growing number of teeth bleachers: I'm not impressed by your dazzling smiles. In fact, I laugh loudly at your WAY-too-white teeth, which look like they've been painted with typewriter correction fluid. And as I laugh, I proudly display my workingman's smile, which is slightly stained with workingman's beverages (coffee, tea, diet cola and grape juice) and workingman's foods (huge blueberry muffins). I implore you to throw away your silly mouthpieces and whitening solution and learn to love your smile's natural patina. In closing, I want to set the record straight. If the coach had taken my advice and allowed me to intentionally walk the batter, our team would've had a good chance of winning the game. After all, we already had two outs and the next batter was the worst player on his team. Like his ancestors, Mark Mayfield (markmayfield@mindspring.com) can accurately squirt a powerful stream of soda pop at pursuing predators. |
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