One of the benefits of getting older is that if you stay in one place long enough, some of the people in your life stop feeling like service providers and start feeling like family.

Our dentist, Dr. Thibodeaux, falls squarely into that category.

Donna and I have been going to her for more than twenty years now. Somewhere along the way she stopped being just our dentist and became our friend. We know about her husband, her children, her mama, and most of the important events in her life. She knows plenty about ours too.

A trip to her office feels more like a family visit than a dental appointment.

At least until somebody starts scraping your teeth.

Donna Lou was there for a cleaning the other day with Dr. Thibodeaux and her assistant, Carrie.

Now if you’ve ever been to the dentist, you’ve probably noticed something.

Dentists and hygienists love asking questions at the exact moment you’re least capable of answering them.

They’ll have both hands in your mouth, a suction tube running, and a bright light shining directly into your eyeballs.

Then they’ll ask something like:

“Where’s that boy Joey these days? I always loved him. He was such a free spirit.”

Or:

“When are y’all heading back to North Carolina? We love the seasons up there.”

Meanwhile you’re sitting there sounding like a malfunctioning lawn mower trying to answer.

“Uhhhhh… ahhhhh… mmmphhhh…”

And somehow they understand every word.

I’ve often wondered if dental school includes a course on interpreting muffled conversation.

So there sat Donna Lou with Dr. Thibodeaux and Carrie both working away when a gentleman walked through the office.

Carrie looked up and asked,

“Hey, is that Jerry Jones that just came in?”

Dr. Thibodeaux said,

“Yeah, isn’t Jerry Jones the coach of the Cowboys?”

Now for the record, Jerry Jones is the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, not the coach.

Donna knew that.

Unfortunately, Donna also had two people working inside her mouth and wasn’t exactly in a position to offer corrections.

The conversation continued.

Dr. Thibodeaux looked over at Carrie and asked,

“Didn’t you always want to be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader?”

Now Carrie is every bit of forty years old.

Without missing a beat she replied,

“Yeah, and it’s not too late. Mama didn’t raise a quitter.”

Donna said everybody in the room started laughing.

I got tickled just hearing the story.

Because there’s something admirable about that kind of confidence.

Most of us spend a lot of time talking ourselves out of things.

We’re too old.

Too late.

Too busy.

Too tired.

Meanwhile, Carrie apparently still believes there’s a chance Jerry Jones might call any day now and offer her a spot on the sidelines.

You know what?

I kind of hope she keeps believing it.

The world could probably use a few more people who think their best opportunities might still be ahead of them.

And if the Dallas Cowboys happen to be looking for a forty-year-old cheerleader with determination and a good attitude, Carrie seems ready.

After all, Mama didn’t raise a quitter.

At least, that’s how I remember it.

As Best As I Remember It.