Joanne Sherman’s column: The Big Squeeze

My colleague at the Reporter was also my best friend, and for more than 25 years — until just recently — the person who took a final look at each column before I sent it to the editor. Even the week she had her gallbladder removed, or her knees replaced, and then there was that ginormous kidney stone. 

Her motto? “Have red pen, will travel.”  She claimed to have no particular favorite, but I overheard her tell a mutual friend otherwise. 

So, after help from the director of the Shelter Island History museum, who dug through its archives to find it, this one’s for you, Archer.

When my husband and I were newlyweds we went through the typical toothpaste tube adjustments. I’m a middle of the tube squeezer; he squeezes from the end. We never discussed our toothpaste incompatibility and for years, each pretended that the other’s toothpaste tube mishandling was not driving us crazy. Any long-time married couple will tell you what makes a relationship strong is some give, some take and a whole lot of pretend.

But now, after decades of sharing the Ultrabrite, we find ourselves faced with another toothpaste tube issue. It started out innocently when I handed him a tube of toothpaste still sealed in its cardboard box.

“I don’t need that,” he said, “I’m sure there’s still some left in the old tube.”

I knew there wasn’t because I’d squeezed out the last dollop. I just hadn’t bothered to throw out the empty tube. Later, I saw that he’d squished the very last out of the old tube. But he didn’t throw it out, he left it on the counter, right next to the box with the new tube. For me to open.

Oh, were we playing a little game? Well! If he could get toothpaste from an empty tube so could I. You know, I am woman hear me roar, and all that. By pressing hard I forced out another scant dollop and left the spent tube on the counter. Let him be the one to declare it empty and throw it out

The next morning I went into the bathroom after he brushed his teeth and there was the old tube next to the unopened cardboard box. OK. I can play hardball, too. 

By applying double-thumb pressure to the top of the tube I got a small squiggle to poof out. Unfortunately when I let go of with one hand and reached for my toothbrush, the squiggle shot right back inside the tube fast as a kid sucking in a piece of spaghetti. I finally figured out that if I used my left elbow to apply extra pressure I could use my right hand to capture the toothpaste before it sucked itself back inside the tube.

The whole process took about 15 minutes and I cut my elbow but at least I didn’t have to declare the tube dead, and the game continued. 

That evening I let him go to bed first because I knew there was a totally empty tube waiting for the next toothbrusher. But when it came my turn there was that new tube still sealed in its box and the old tube, which had been pressed so many times down the edge of the counter its sides were as sharp as a razor blade. I could have shaved my legs with it.

No matter how hard I squeezed, nothing came out. Using a flashlight, I could see enough toothpaste inside to win me the round, I just couldn’t get it to the outside. Eventually, I did get some out by putting the tube on the floor and kneeling on it. I cut my knee in three places but blood loss was a small price to pay to be able to hear him tear open that cardboard box the next morning.

Instead, I heard a series of loud thumps and when I went to brush my teeth, I saw peculiar marks on the flattened tube. Footprints! I could not believe he had stepped on the tube in order to get out enough toothpaste to brush his teeth. If there were rules in the game we were pretending we weren’t playing, I’m sure using feet would have been against them.

Following his lead, I put the tube on the floor and stepped on it. Nothing. I stood on the toilet and jumped. That worked. I did have to scrape toothpaste off the shower curtain, but I didn’t have to open the new box and even if he’d cut into it, there was no way he’d get anything from the old tube, which by then was so thin it disappeared when turned sideways. He had no choice but to open that new tube and I would win our undeclared toothpaste war. 

So who won? Neither of us, because our son was visiting and opened the new tube, ruining all our fun. But that was a few weeks ago and now that tube is getting close to empty.

Let the games begin.