KEEP ON SMILING
12thJuly 2020
When we were in London during lockdown, two of my greatest anxieties were a) my washer/dryer would die and b) my prone-to-infection gums would require dental attention. The first fear materialized; the bloody washer/dryer died. Having had an infection around an implant in December, which required a deep clean and a week of antibiotics, I chose to believe my mouth would survive lockdown.
One of the many blessings of living in Italy is having access to its state-of-the art medical and dental care in which fields I have partaken of several treatments in the six years we’ve been living here. These include treatments for a broken knee and hand, a broken collarbone, the preparation and insertion of a dental bridge spanning four teeth and a horrendous surgery to save an implant from falling out due to a massive infection and bone loss. Ah, the glory of British teeth. In order to avoid further catastrophe I have, for the last four years, visited our first class dentist in Siena for a cleaning every three months.
One of the predicaments we all find ourselves in as a result of the pandemic is the constant weighing of potential risk. So it is that for the past two months since our return to Tuscany I have been trying to decide if I’d rather risk going to the dentist and possible dying of coronavirus, or not going and possibly having, at best, several bridges, crowns and implants fail or, at worst, dying of heart failure as a result of gum disease. Who says choice is a fine thing? In the end I decided to visit the dentist last Friday for a four-month overdue cleaning; and a good job I did as it turns out the old gums were mightily inflamed with the beginning of several sites of infection.
Siena, one of the most beautiful Italian cities, is a thirty-minute drive from us. Over the years we’ve gone there approximately once a month, sometimes for the old teeth, sometimes for museum visits or visits with friends, once in a while to indulge in shopping at my number one boutique, Dolce Trame, followed by lunch at our favourite restaurant, Osteria le Logge and always to visit Il Campo, that amazing medieval piazza renowned for the Palio horse race.
Walking the dark, narrow streets of Siena holds a thrill for me much as did going to the seaside in my childhood. Those day trips entailed a long walk up a hill, my tummy a-flutter for the moment when the sun-dazzled sea would appear over the crest. In Siena, no matter where you enter the city, one is drawn to Il Campo and it is always a thrill and a shock to come out of one of those narrow streets into its vast, beach-like expanse of worn brick upon which crowds of people gather to sit and chat, lick cones, or watch toddlers chase pigeons. The clock tower on one side of piazza casts a long shadow like that of a sundial and if you sit there long enough you can see the shadow move, along with the people who choose to sit in its shade. Even in winter it is a space that bustles with energy and the surrounding outdoor tables of a semi-circle of cafes will be full of sun worshippers sipping their various beverages.
So what a shock it was, on Friday, to find it virtually empty. I stood at its edge and wept. As much as one might complain about tourists, the lack of them and the scarcity of locals made the space echo with loss: loss of vibrancy, of joy, of care-free intimacy.
This was our first visit to a city in two months and it was a mixed experience. On the one hand, I was able to visit some of my favourite shops and feel safe; all the employees while wearing masks were nonetheless open-hearted and positive. But the streets, while not nearly as crowded as usual for this time of year, still gave off a frisson of fear. In particular I was appalled to see the number of people in their 20’s and 30’s mask-free and flaunting it. I’ve seen this elsewhere in the last few months and it frightens me. It frightens me because if feels like this age-group, having been told it is least at risk, seems not to give a shit about the possibility of infecting those of us who are most at risk.
Hey, I’m as vain as the next person and I am not amused by the fact that wearing a mask covers my smile which is the only ageless part of my body at this point in my life. So I get that young people are driven to see and be seen. But this pandemic requires all of us to let go of some things in order to stay safe and keep others safe. Two young men passed close to me; gorgeous specimens of health and virility with a swagger of bravado in their step. No masks. One let out a loud laugh and, envisioning the spray of aerosols, I turned my face and moved away. But what I really wanted to do was grab a hold them and say “Hey, what the hell? Do you really not care if your vanity kills someone?” But then I thought of the bus driver in France who recently asked two young men boarding the bus to put on masks. Instead they attacked him so viciously he later died of his injuries.
This is what I fear more than the virus, more than a visit to the dentist; the way in which fear affects we humans differently. Some of us become reclusive, some of us constantly weigh our chances and make the best decisions we can for ourselves and for others. And some of us become barbarians.
At the dentist’s office the entire staff was capped, gowned, gloved, and masked.. Every patient had their temperature taken and our personal belongings were put in large plastic bags. All magazines and toys had been removed. Antiseptic gel was everywhere. I felt as safe as one can feel in such a situation. Back out on the street I decided to go to Dolce Trame to find a present for my friend Luana’s birthday later this month. The saleswomen there know me well and normally there’d be a round of hugs. Instead we exclaimed our joy through masks above which our eyes did their best to convey our smiles.
The smile: that wordless expression that conveys joy and pleasure, amusement, approval and plain old happiness and evidently smiling also boosts the immune system because the body completely relaxes while doing it. Yet while our mouths remain hidden another opportunity presents itself. When we smile it’s not just with the mouth, the eyes are involved too. So let’s look into each other’s eyes more often, those exquisite windows to the soul.
I bought Luana an electric blue shawl dotted with tiny sparkles. I look forward to seeing her smile when she opens it.
I leave you with Nat King Cole encouraging us all to smile no matter what.
With much love,
As always,
Maggie
