A Remembrance of False Teeth

By Jeffrey M. Bowen

My grandfather Henry Bowen’s false teeth had quite a reputation, according to stories my father told me more than once.  Apparently they fitted him poorly and were too loose.  So regularly when he drank hot tea at the dinner table, his teeth would fall onto his dinner plate with a loud clatter.  Dad also told me that on one icy, slippery day in Portland, Grampy lost his teeth and had to chase them down one of the city’s hilly streets.

I recalled those stories the other day when I was told about a local fellow who recently passed away.  His expensive and beautiful false teeth were removed before burial and returned to his wife who didn’t quite know just what to do with them.  Coincidentally, the floor of their garage was being repoured with cement, so thinking it was a shame to let good teeth like that go to waste, and in memory of her deceased husband, she asked the contractor to embed the teeth in a special corner of the garage.  One is tempted to think that perhaps, during his life, she had wanted to run over him more than once, but in any case the contractor reassured her that he could pop out the set from concrete anytime she wanted.  Imagine this: every time you enter the garage, there are your spouse’s teeth grinning up at you.  This lady’s decision certainly did have some teeth in it.  Unlike my grandfather’s choppers, the embedded set will never fall out when exposed to heat or cold!  The Fixodent Company really needs to do a television ad about this bizarre but thoughtful remembrance.