Taking Care of My Teeth
My mom had false teeth and I never knew until she lay dying of heart failure while I moistened her parched lips with a cotton swab.
My dad, a dentist by trade, had false teeth, and I never knew that until the day I was helping him clean out the garage when he sneezed so hard because of the dust that his teeth flew out his mouth onto the cement floor.
Patty Smith takes care of her teeth. I wonder if she brushes with Sensodyne toothpaste. Not the Sensodyne you buy in the states. The kind sold in Europe that contains bioactive glass. I bought 6 tubes of the stuff from Amazon. After all, I am my father’s son.
Saint Luke is the patron saint of painters and physicians and surgeons. Dad, being a dentist, falls into the category of physician/surgeon. He was also an accomplished painter. His final work was a self-portrait in the style of Rembrandt. It hangs in my studio.
Broadly speaking, Saint Luke runs in the family. Years back I had a vision that I was a 16th century physician in Bavaria. This is why I wish to speak with Saint Luke. I’m employing the same technique I used when I merged with Nikola Tesla.
Tesla and I are one. Tesla and I are one. Tesla and I are one. When contact was established, we enjoyed a summer’s worth of interesting conversations. One day I asked him if he was right or left handed. “Both,” he replied. Later that day I confirmed his answer.
This year I hope (and pray) to chat with Saint Luke. This is the same Luke as in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Luke was a well educated Greek gentile, a physician by trade. Christian tradition states he was the first icon painter.
Saint Luke and I are one. Saint Luke and I are one. Saint Luke and I are one. Over and over and, at some point, I will know. And then we will speak. I have questions. Perhaps you have questions.
A caveat. Be careful who or what you wish for.
Just sayin’.
