by Robert Benchley

For instance, how much do we know that in the simple process of digestion there is romance?

When you take a bite of that delicious cookie, or swallow a morsel of that nourishing bread, do you stop to think of the marvelous and intricate process by means of which Mother Nature -I call her Mother Nature- is going to convert it into bone and sinew and roses for those pretty cheeks?

Because if you do stop to think, you're quite likely not to be able to digest whatever it is you're eating. But whether you stop to think or not, this exciting process of digestion is going on day after day. Sometimes rather badly, but always with a great show of efficiency. It is, on the whole, one of the worst-done jobs in the world.

Now first you must know that those tiny, hard edges of bone, which you must have noticed a hundred times in the front of your mouth, are teeth and are put there for a very definite purpose. They are the ivory gates to the body. "Ivory gates to the body." They are nature's tiny sentinels and if you've ever bitten yourself you know how sharp they can be and what efficient little watchmen they are.

Just try to slip your finger in your mouth once without your teeth's permission and see how far you get. Or try to take it out once they've captured it. No- Ha ha! Now these brave little sentinels, the teeth, which are in our mouth, take the food as it comes through the air -in case you're snapping at a butterfly- of from the fork and separate it into its component parts -land, air, and water. In this process, they are assisted by the tongue, which is that awful looking thing just back of the teeth.

Now the tongue, which we call the escalator of the body or Nature's Nobleman for short, and the teeth toss the food back and forth between them until there is nothing left of it, except those little bones which you have to take out between your thums and forefinger and put on the butter plate.

We now come to the really wonderful part of this Romance of Digestion which is going on under our very eyes. Here is a man who was chosen for this work, because his digestive tract is more clearly visible than in most people.

It's the same as yours and mine, but a little less concealed. This man, whom we will call Arthur W., permitted this picture to be made in the interest of science, but insisted on keeping his eyes closed, so that his friends would not recognize him and start kidding him. Arthur, as you will see, is rather a special type and easily hurt. But as a study for the digestive tract, he is practically perfect.

Now you see the food enters here and passes these little white sentinels which we have learned to call the teeth. You see, teeth -teeth -teeth. This one here we're not quite sure about. Once this food is on the tongue, a chemical reaction is set up which presses a button and signals down to old Mr. Stomach and says, "Mr. Stomach, do you want the food or don't you?" And old Mr. Stomach, or "Prince Charming," as we shall call him from now on, telegraphs or maybe writes back and says, "Yes, dear," or "You may do whatever you like with it" -according as he happens to be feeling at the moment. Then such a commotion as goes on in the mouth!

"Foodie's going to visit Stomach," the little teeth cry as if they were going themselves. "All aboard," yells the tongue, and there's a ringing of bells and a tooting of whistles and a bumping of porters and all the time this little piece of cookie is sitting on the tongue, ready to take its first trip all alone doen to see Prince Charming, or the stomach, as we will call it from now on.

The food is then put on a conveyor, where it is taken down to the pressing machines, which are situated on the third floor. These pressing machines are worked by one man, who stands by the conveyor, takes the food off as it comes down, tosses it into the vats. Here the moss and rocks are drained off by mechanical pickers and the whole thing is subjected to a treatment of sulphite, which is a process that is secret and very jealously guarded. From here it is taken on the shovel down to the playroom where it plays around with the other children for a while until it is time to be wrapped up in the bindery, by the girls, and stacked into little pile and delivered in bunches of fifty.

Now these packages -the proteins are sent to the bones of the body, the carbohydrates to the muscles, and a third class, the sophmores, go into making fatty tissues, which nobody wants.

The byproducts are made into milk-bottle caps, emery wheels, and insurance calendars and are sold at cost. We have seen what an intricate process this digestion is. And so we musn't -we musn't expect Mother Nature to take care of it all by herself. Because if we do, we're going to get good and stuck.

We must be careful of what we eat. We must eat a balanced diet. By a balanced diet I mean no bread, no butter, no potatoes, no meat, no vegetables, no solid food -just a handful of old lettuce now and then or a few dried beans is all we'd better try to take care of.

In short, if we want this process of digestion well done, we've got to do it ourselves.

Because we've seen how Mother Nature takes care of all our little problems aided only by soda mint and bicarbonate. I thank you. I beg your pardon.


From "The Romance of Digestion," ©1937 by Metro-Goldwyn Mayer Corporation