Martin Cornick of Somerville, Periodontist

This morning I was in Somerville for my quarterly cleaning, this time at the office of one Martin Cornick, who shares his practice with his son Peter and the low, modest building with another son, who's a lawyer serving an elderly clientele. That's good affinity marketing.

Dr Marty, as they say, is not just a periodontist but a rabbinical figure. Looking all too much like Gene Wilder, the man has a way, which is not to say his way, with clients. I'll never forget the time when he was drilling deep into my sorry jaw to put an implant in there and, despite the intense amount of drugs he had pumped into me, it hurt like fuck. I sat there thinking about Mary giving birth soon and at least it didn't hurt like that. He had my head held in his armpit to keep me from squirming, and, right at the height of the pain, he lets go of my head momentarily and goes, "ya havin fun their, kid?" or somesuch nonsense. It was well-timed, perfect comic release.

And now Dr. Pete, as they say, is running the shop and well, but I miss the old gum rabbi. Surely he's off having well-earned fun, I'm sure. Last time I saw him he had on hiking shoes to complement his mass of frizzy white hair.