A HAPPY EXPERIENCE WITH THE DENTIST

Can you believe I have had a happy time at the dentist? You know, if you have been reading this blog, that I have virtual panic at the dentist, and have suffered from this since childhood experiences at the hands of one Dr. Fetter (may he roast in hell). I am now 80 years old, and the high anxiety lingers on. My dentist had brought me a long way out of this, and I only had to take one valium instead of two when getting major work done. To my horror, my dentist sent out a postcard announcing that she was leaving her practice. I went to see her and tried to persuade her to abandon this idea, but she said that she was getting a divorce and her life was being turned upside down. (Another man who was interfering with my dental improvement through no fault of mine).

Then I tried a new dentist and had a terrible terrible experience with a root canal gone awry. During this ordeal I felt I was being tortured by Mr. Cheney, and slipped backward from the progress I had made. I think I was in shock, because I was shaking uncontrolably and had a little accident in the chair. I got out grateful to be alive.

And wouldn't you know it, several weeks later I was innocently eating a slice of cold pizza for breakfast, when I happened upon an unusually hard bite of pepperoni. Of course it wasn't a piece of pepperoni, but a piece of one of my front teeth. This made it obvious that I had to try a new dentist (I couldn't go back to the last one) Seeking a referral from a very sensible friend, today was my first experience with this delightful, soft spoken man. And it worked! This morning on my way to the appointment for the crown, I felt like Marie Antoinette in the tumbril. I was really low and all valiumed up - don't worry, I didn't drive. But he, and his assistant, were so competent, so informative, so deft with the gooey stuff that makes the mold, that I survived without a trauma of any sort. I have found the answer! Find the best dentist you can.

Now I am home and the valium is wearing off. My sadness is gone- the Arizona sun is shining bright. I am singing and dancing around the house and playing my Abba record very loud, getting ready to switch to Beethoven's Choral Fantasy which seems like an appropriate end to the day. Goodbye and Good Luck.

THE GM BONDHOLDER AND TOUGH LOVE

I might as well say it- I'm an old person and I live on what my father always called "a limited income". I'm a saver and don't like gambling, and some years ago gave up any experimenting with the stock market because it made me nervous to read about it in the morning paper. So all of my money is invested in a collection of very conservative bonds and it made me happy to read the list of those solid substantial corporations I was investing my life savings to. They don't look so good now in our financial debris. There's Citicorp, Bank of America, Wachovia, Credit Suisse, and my heavy hitter, GENERAL MOTORS. God save me, I am a GM bondholder and have been for many years.

The company which in my naivite I never considered would ever fail - how could Chevvies and Buicks and Cadillacs ever go away? It is inconceivable. Now we hear that GM is in the process of being given "tough love". The bondholders, I read, are given the choice of negotiating down the face value of the bonds or dying. No one has asked me if I want to negotiate - I suppose only the Wall Street types are good enough to take part in this death march. I haven't even been notified of it. I don't want to negotiate. I thought a bond was a contract between the corporation and the innocent buyer - You paid the face value and some ten years down the line the corporation paid you back. Aren't contracts not to be broken? Look at those jokers at AIG with their gross bonuses. Weren't we told that they were contracts and had to be paid even if AIG was on the verge of bankruptcy? Why doesn't that apply to me? I don't need tough love. I need for them to live up to the promise they made me.

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