Sixties Chick

My horoscope for Wednesday, October 28th read, “You’re not one to worry incessantly, but money issues have popped up that are making you a little crazy. The good news is that you’ve got the mindset to deal with them head-on once and for all.”

I read this about a half an hour before I broke my tooth. My front tooth, bottom, leaving a gap that could have been cute if it hadn’t been so evident that half a tooth was missing. Now, if there’s one thing that stirs up the old money angst it’s a tooth emergency, because as anyone without dental insurance knows, those pearly whites can really devour a lot of green. Once you pass 50, you might as well sign over your savings to that masked man who so blithely orders you to “open wider.”

Unfortunately, teeth are rather important. And it goes way beyond chewing. My friend Dona tries to cheer me up. She works with a lady named Rose who, she swears, is absolutely beautiful and, by the way, has no front teeth. “You don’t even notice,” Dona insists. “She’s as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside.” Oh sure, I think, reminding myself that my friend’s judgment  is always of a higher order than my own.

I want my teeth. I am very attached to them. Not much in the way of worldly goods interests me; you can keep your flat screens, your designer shoes, the luxury car, but I do want my teeth. I start the calculation for what I  learn will be a root canal and a crown. What’s in the bank? I wonder. How much room is left on the credit card? Who owes me money?

“Damn this recession,” I snarl. “Damn these teeth. Which ancestor passed these down? Who’s responsible here?” I ask myself, trying to recall the mouths of those long gone. Clearly, it’s a useless exercise, but it occurs to me that I could sure use their help now.

So with what might seem like a novel approach to my horoscope’s, “dealing with  money issues head-on,” I begin the “Ask the Ancestor” campaign, a full-throttle program of an appeal for help from those who once loved me on earth, but who are now on the other side. What could it hurt? I think. I’d do the same for them.

I start with the women. (The men, I figure, are distracted at the moment with the World Series.)  My grandmothers, my aunts,  my cousins, my mother – I tell them what’s going on, what exactly it is I need, how grateful I’d be. “Could you please pull some strings?” I ask these dear, dear disembodied souls. “Please see what you can do,” I  beseech them as I walk the dog, take a bath, navigate the aisles of the Super Fresh. “Anna, Mary, Nan, Sarah, Louise and Rosalyn. Midge, Ruth, Janet, Jean and Gail.  Are you listening?”  There isn’t an opportunity I miss for this somewhat  strange, on-going monologue.

“I am open to receive,” I assure them. “But I will do my part.” And I will. As these old souls must know from their days in “matter,” those of us still here could sure use a hand from time to time. There’s no question  that a little help (from wherever  it comes) can  go a long, long way towards a brand, new mindset  and a million dollar smile.

This entry was posted on November 2, 2009 at 9:00 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.