Jimmy the Dentist

I've lived in LA for 13 years but have still been unable to find a local dentist. Instead, every time I fly back to Miami to visit my family I make an appointment with Jimmy. I've known him and his wife, Frankie for at least 20 years. When I was in high school and my dad had become so sick that he needed a wheelchair, Jimmy drove my father to the office after they had closed so he could work on my dad's teeth without my dad having to wait or be uncomfortable around other people. I'm 35-years-old and Jimmy still gives me a fatherly kiss on the forehead when he sees me lying down in the dentist's chair. He's a gentle hippy who manages to be gentle even while he drills my teeth and fills a cavity. When I was 16 I was - along with being a hip-hop fan - a jazz drummer. I loved listening to jazz, and was lucky enough to see Dizzy Gillespie play live in Miami. I was with my mom at Jimmy's house and he had just bought a photography book he was raving about - The Eye of Jazz by Herman Leonard. Leonard took these amazing photographs of all the jazz legends I adored. Jimmy showed me the Dizzy Gillespie pictures and then showed me some pictures of the guys with whom I wasn't yet familiar. He said, "I want you to have the book." I told him I didn't want to take it, but he wouldn't budge. I got into my mom's car with the book and started to cry a little. I quickly wiped my eyes so no one would see. I didn't know why I was crying. I just knew that it made me feel emotional when he offered me his book. Thinking about it now, I think I cried because I knew Jimmy was giving me something he loved simply because he thought it would make me happy during a time when there wasn't a lot of happiness in my life. And I still love the guy for it. I guess that's why I can't seem to find another dentist.