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Life, actually…

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TO TELL THE TOOTH

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THSHTH! THSHTH!

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Let me get this as right as I can…it’s difficult to spell the sound that my father used to make whenever he was caught without a toothpick.

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You’ll just have to get me to make that sound for you next time we meet, because THSHTH! is as close as I can come to reproducing it. That sound occurs when you suck air between two adjacent teeth in your mouth, but only when that space between those teeth has a food particle that needs to be cleared away.

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When my father made the THSHTH! sound, we knew he was feeling satisfied, that he was sated from a good home-cooked meal. He’d be driving along on the way to visit my Uncle Pat McGee in Peterson, Alabama, and I’d be in the front seat. In the rear seat would be my brother Tim. Every time my father made the THSHTH! sound, Tim would loudly imitate it.

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To this day, I don’t know whether Dad was so used to making the sound that he didn’t know he was being mocked, or whether he was the most tolerant man in the universe. Any ordinary person might have pulled off the side of the road and popped Tim one, but Dad just refused to acknowledge Tim’s noises.

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This, of course, just egged Tim on. He’d do additional things in the back seat, such as imitate the expressions and comments that our neighbor Edgar Beatty would come out with. He mimicked phrases that Uncle Adron Herrin used—in exact imitation, by the way. I never was good at imitations, so to this day I marvel at Tim’s uncanny ability to create humor out of just about anything he finds funny or scary.

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All through the years, I stop short when anybody around me makes anything like that THSHTH! noise—and, of course, lots of people do.

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Everybody seems to have their little sounds and oral punctuations that unconsciously pop out. Hums, sighs, whistles, grunts, tooth-clicking, neck-cricking, tsking, snorting, groaning, hacking, swallowing loudly, lip-popping, gurgling, sneezing, throat-clearing, sinus-blowing, whispering, muttering, and on and on.

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Wouldn’t it be horribly wonderful if we could get a group of people together, willing to reproduce their own personally-developed sounds, and perform some sort of symphony? A noisy pantomime representing all the daily little ejections of delight and frustration that emanate from us, all the little and big wordless pronouncements…we could perform them in such a way that the listener will be able to hear and appreciate—and even understand—the import and usefulness of these silly tiny things we utter.

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Those THSHTH! sounds my father made had great meaning and significance in our little neighborhood, and we the family could no more have done without them than without food.

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We silently knew those sounds were the assurances we received each day that for a few ticks in time, the head of the family was satisfied and happy with the moment, and, thus, so were we

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© Jim Reed 2024 A.D.

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