HOLLY NADLER

508-274-2329

(hollynadler@gmail.com)

Something funny happened on the way to the dentist. Somewhere I read that dental appointments are the most frequently postponed activities in modern life. When you’re all grown up (which most of us aspire to be eventually), if you have any opportunity to delay calling your dentist by a day or a year, you do. The only time in our lives that we patronized our dentists with unshakable regularity was when our moms made the appointment.

Yet all this time I’ve been loving as-yet-unmet Dr. Casey V. Pedro, because she’s the only Island dentist, as far as my research goes, who accepts reimbursement from Commonwealth Care. Dr. Pedro’s office had already started me off with a set of x-rays, so it was time to take our relationship to the next level. The x-rays were radioactively snapped in June, but I’ve been very, er, busy. So, there I was this past Monday, walking the halls of the abandoned part of the hospital. Equipment is strewn here and there, and the glassed-through offices are dark. The vibe is of a mass exodus caused by a stray Ebola bug or something, and you wonder if you should be sealed up in a Haz-Mat suit. But there are signs of life, and Dr. Casey’s office is in one of these still-thriving corridors.

Two nice ladies, Martha and Carrie, were manning the office behind the partition. When Martha concluded a phone call to change an appointment (bet the person had a sketchy excuse), I lucked into a cancelled appointment for Feb. 21. This was actual good news since I’m at this point gob-smacked with guilt over ignoring my teeth for so long.

Behind the office partition, a young woman had just left Carrie’s side, having administered a quick shoulder rub. Carrie said, “That’s what’s nice about having a daughter around. People don’t touch each other any more.”

We discussed this. It was February; there weren’t a lot of people available to touch anyone anywhere, but Carrie thought it went deeper than that. “People have become very self-absorbed.” I argued for the pockets of light that you detect even here in the midst of winter, but then I did something unexpected. I put down my grey wool cap and my bicycle helmet, and I came around the partition to give both ladies shoulder rubs. I apologized for being no professional, but we all decided, professional or not, there was no such thing as a bad back or shoulder rub. They’re like foot massages or chocolate chip cookies or fields of wildflowers; they’re hard to mess up. And then we all three decided we should make an effort to dispense more shoulder rubs to anyone who’s looking tired or sad or who’s just sitting down and starting into that land they call the middle distance. Of course we’d need to ask first, “Would you like a quick shoulder rub? Looks like you could use a little de-stressing.”

But we do need to touch more and be touched more and to love more and be loved more. And it is mid-February in New England and many of us are feeling a bit ... triste. (Sorry, I’m a little pretentious since I got back from Paris but that doesn’t make me any less triste.) So let’s get this shoulder rub thing going. Maybe it’ll take off the way hugs did, remember? It was back in the late 70s and all of a sudden we went from quick pecks on friends’ cheeks to flat-out hugs. Granted they’ve become somewhat perfunctory unless it’s your child and he’s going off to war and the train is pulling out of the station....

So here come the love-charged announcements: The MADLOVE Party has been moved to the P.A. Club. This will take place on Friday, Feb. 11 at 8 p.m. Michelle Vivian will emcee, Mercy Beat will play, Deejay Di will be on the hi-fi, Ester and Sergio will be cutting mad rug, hors d’oeurvre will be served and prizes handed out for costumes. Tickets are $20, a benefit to fight human trafficking. Bring that love and don’t forget to massage some shoulders!

Our year-round neighbor in O.B., children’s author Kate Feiffer, received a super-review in Publishers Weekly for her upcoming book (FYI, booksellers take almost all their direction from this one mega-influential journal). My Side of the Car, written by Kate, is illustrated by some guy she knows, Jules Feiffer (Candlewick, $16.99). The starred review in Publishers Weekly says, “This father-and-daughter team’s account of a family car trip, inspired by real-life family history, is one continuous smile of a story.” You can read more about it when we get nearer to the publication date in April, but the review ends, “Sadie’s cheerful sass and her father’s obvious respect for and indulgence of the force of her imagination make this a keeper. Ages 4-8.” So when you next see Kate, give her a congratulatory shoulder rub.

Now for the big love weekend: For those of you who adore the work of seadogs shutterbug Lisa Vanderhoop, she has photos on display at the Chilmark Bank and she’s selling Valentine’s cards including the one of a Golden Retriever puppy on the beach with a branch in his teeth and the caption, “Valentine, don’t you look fetching today” and a big old grumpy, pink-and-white-faced dog at the Inkwell, and the caption “Got Love?” This Great Dane could use a full body rub.

Keep looking for those pockets of light.