Hill-Topics: About winged migration
We saw a pair of big, beautiful Canada geese near the pond by our house one evening last week and wondered how they came to stop there on their migratory journey.
Perhaps they were thinking about how nice it would be to be home in Hillsboro; settle down, raise a family. Most pairs mate for life you know.
Awhile later we looked and they were gone. Interestingly, a few minutes afterward, a single goose flew by, house-top low, honking, along the same route.
One of my favorite films is a documentary called, "Winged Migration," a beautiful study of migratory birds all over the world. If you get movies by mail, order it, and let me know what you think.
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It's homecoming week! (See story, pg.1) I was invited to the all-school assembly at the high school this past Friday when the candidates were announced. It was a kick to see the faculty involved, and to see how much fun everyone seemed to be having together.
You don't want to miss the homecoming parade at 2:30 p.m. Friday. It promises to be another slice of the Americana for which Hillsboro is known.
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Our 20-year-old son, Garrison, had all four of his wisdom teeth pulled last week. I was there to offer support, but being squeamish, I stayed in the waiting room. The procedure didn't take very long, considering it cost over $100 a tooth. The dentist, wearing a mask, came to get me. I was tempted to raise my hands and yell, "don't shoot, you've already taken all my money."
I went back to see my son who was doing great. The four offending molars were laying on the silver tray. The nurse said something about how the Tooth Fairy was shelling out big bucks for wisdom teeth. I said, "the boy goes to college! We shell out big bucks regularly."
I remember that for some reason we kept our kids first lost teeth, little tiny things, in little plastic bags in the baby books.
When I saw the wisdom teeth on the tray, and thought about how time slips away, I was thankful that our kids have grown up healthy and wiser than we were at the same age.After we paid the bill, the dentist bragged on Garrison's remaining teeth, praising us for having them protected by sealants when he was younger. I'm sure he was being sincere, but it struck me that this was the same guy who'd told us how badly four of them needed to come out. "Hmm," I said to myself.
"Hrmph," said my son; he had a cotton-filled mouth.
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One of the nice things about having grown up children is you can begin sharing with them some of the things you did when you were young. (I said some of them!)
When I was six or seven, my older brother, Perry, and I shared a bedroom. He used to terrify me with bedtime dentist office stories.
"The nurse will cover your eyes, and the dentist will say, 'Now we're just going to pinch your cheek a little,'" Perry would say, "but really, they're going to jab you with a needle this long!"
In the dark, imagining his arms spread wide, I was terrified.
Sure enough, when I made my first trip to the dentist's office, the scenario unfolded just as he'd said, only when the nurse covered my eyes and the dentist told his little white lie, I bolted from the dentist chair and dashed from the office, through the waiting room and out the door, with the dentist in hot pursuit.
How he caught me and got me back in the chair I don't know.
"My teeth are fine!" I said, and to prove it, as soon as he put his finger in my mouth, I bit him so hard it made him bleed.
To this day, I still get the urge to bolt from the dentist chair, and must look away when poked with needles.
Thanks, Perry.
— GRANT OVERSTAKE
