Lord have mercy. Somehow enough time has passed that I am now three times the age of my Sweet 16 (surprise) birthday party, in September 1978. How the hell did this happen? Isn’t time just the damndest thing?
But let’s talk about what’s really important here: To this day, my orthodontist remains one of my greatest heroes. The day I got my braces at 15 (late bloomer, cool cats) was the beginning of a promising new life… No more big split dividing my blessedly bucky front teeth. Thank god for Dr. Pillis… and, uh, my parent’s good sense to know that without a set of straight choppers, I’d probably still be washing dishes in the back of a pizza joint… just as I was during the summer of my 16th year. *