Sealed with a Burp

Long before the home shopping networks and social media came along, women were hosting parties in their homes to sell everything from cleaners to food storage products to kitchen gadgets. And, yes, even "marital aids."

Enlisting the help of the Google, I discovered that a guy name Norman Squires, formerly of Aluminum Cooking Utensil of America, was hired by Stanley Home Products (SHP) in the late 1930s to develop and implement the model for these hostess parties.

The idea was that the dealer approached a woman she knew and ask her to host a party. Said friend would invite her friends, relatives and neighbors to her home, serve them snacks and drinks, and entice them to spend their money on whatever the wondrous/amazing/can't live without it product might be. There were hands-on demonstrations (this is the way we burp the Tupperware). Games. And gifts for the woman who hosted the party. And, if the hostess decided to sign on and become a dealer herself, the person who enlisted her would receive a commission, and she herself could start to earn cash.

And so on and so on.

Two women who worked for SHP went on to take Norman's concept to new heights. One was Mary Kay Ash, who went the route of cosmetics. The other was Brownie Wise.

Brownie, deserted by her husband and raising a son with health issues, was living with her mother. While she working at SHP, she and some other representatives decided to add Tupperware to their party offerings. Tupperware was a fledgling company with lackluster sales. The product was offered in stores, but the price tag was daunting and the concept unheard of. No one had plastics in their kitchen in those days.

Ms. Wise changed all that. In 1951, after her efforts came to the attention of Earl Tupper, Brownie was hired as Vice President of Sales to develop the model for the hostess party for his company. She helped to build the Tupperware empire. She'd fill the "Wonder Bowl" with water and toss it around, showing the guests how the Tupperware seal worked, how easy the stuff was to stack, and so on. There was a regular training program and a 4-day sales meeting that featured successful sales stories, entertainment and the introduction of new products. Her mantra was, "You build the people and they'll build the business."

In 1954, Brownie Wise became the first woman to grace the cover of Business Week magazine.

In 1958, she was sacked. Mr. Tupper wanted to sell the business and thought he'd have a better chance if an outspoken woman wasn't at the helm of the sales division. She sued and receive $30,000. She tried to parlay her experience by founding other companies, but never had the success she enjoyed at Tupperware. She died in 1992, at the age of 79.

Today, the Tupperware party lives on, although you can purchase some of the products online. I think part of what made these parties so popular back in the day was the social aspect. It was an excuse to get out, enjoy nibbles, and spend time with friends.

I still have the Tupperware I purchased from parties I hosted/attended in the 1980s. I love the stuff. It's good quality and gets the job done.

And, yes, I hosted other parties, too. Including the "marital aids" party I mentioned earlier.

But that's a story for another day.

A Winter Moment

There was no party in the park. No sunset vigil. No hoo-ha at all.

Poor Winter Solstice.

Unlike its warm counterpart, winter is not greeted joyfully, but with groans and sighs. Hunkering down for the winter, preparing for the onslaught of snow and cold.

I guess I'm just as bad as everyone else (except the skiers and Jayson). I hate driving in the snow. Shoveling snow. Having to warm up my car. Bundling up.

So when I looked out the window this morning and saw the ground was covered, I grimaced and grabbed a broom. I reminded myself that last week I told the Big Guy it would be okay if it snowed some other time, just please spare our family gathering in Columbus. He did. So now I needed to shut my pie hole, suck it up, and go clean off the porch steps and find my newspaper.

It was still dark-ish out. And quiet. So very quiet. I just stood on the porch for a few minutes. It must not be too cold, because I could hear the drip drip of the stuff melting off the roof. That, and a few cars on the main street whooshing by.

I paused and took stock.

All we get are moments. At least, that's what I believe. Happiness doesn't come to us, it's something that lives inside, something we tap into. So much we cannot control, it's just pointless to try.

On my porch this morning, looking out across my little lawn, I enjoyed a few moments of peace. A slice of happiness in just being.

Fine, roll your eyes if you must, tell me I'm going all woo-woo again. I don't care.

I was just giving my props to Winter. We may not always be on the friendliest of terms, but He does have something about him, and if I choose to, I can appreciate his style.

Until I have to scrape his leavings off my car.

P.S. Bonus points if you can spot my newspaper on the lawn in the photo above.

Fa La Blah Blah Blah

This is about the time of the holiday season when I reach my maximum capacity for holiday tunes.

I've heard countless renditions of the secular classics, including (but not limited to) Silver Bells, Jingle Bell Rock, Twelve Days of Christmas and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Plus the religious carols, a la Silent Night, The First Noel, Little Drummer Boy and Joy to the World. Not to mention all the latter-day classics: Lennon and McCartney with their respective holiday cheer; Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas, and, who can forget (no matter how hard they try), George Michael crooning Last Christmas.

I will admit to having a nostalgic soft spot for the music of my childhood. Alvin and the Chipmunks still rock my world. Mitch Miller and his sing-alongers are still welcome. And I enjoy a little Bing, a Little Rosemary Clooney, a little Mantovani.

And yes, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas still makes me teary.

Music has always been a memory trigger for me. Which is generally a good thing, particularly at this time of year. I envision my mom's handiwork on the holiday decorations. Dad wrangling the live Christmas tree into position, murmuring expletives under his breath so as not to corrupt young minds (ha ha), trying to position the tree so the best part was in the front. And six of us decorating the tree, arguing over the aesthetics, the older ones re-hanging ornaments that were too close together or unclumping tinsel clumped by us younger sibs.

My dad, sitting in his chair, sipping a hot toddy, the room lit only by the lights from the tree. The fake cardboard fireplace. The little trees on the "mantel" that spun when the lights inside them warmed, casting patterns onto the wall. These are the images that holiday music evokes.

Hmmm...I suppose I can put up with the holiday noise for another couple of weeks.

But please, no hippos for Christmas. Or dogs barking out Jingle Bells. Or grandmas being run down by reindeer.

Must be Santa. Santa Claus.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Something

What is it about the holidays that make people all crazy about silly stuff?

Making the rounds in social media are the kerfuffle over the Rudolph TV special and the ever-persistent "Merry Christmas" versus "Happy Holidays" greeting, which carries over into Starbucks' coffee cup territory.

Let's tackle Rudolph first.

A beloved classic, the Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer TV special has been around as long as my brother (54 years) and viewed by millions of children, presumably without any damage to delicate psyches.

I think it probably started as a joke, but now there are folks who seriously think this special is bad for children because Santa is a bully and Rudolph's dad acts like a dick to his kid, making him wear a false nose so he doesn't embarrass his family.

Then there's the island of misfit toys, which is a whole other Santa's bag of mishegas. 

I think the point here is that in order to have a story, there has to be some sort of conflict to overcome. For Rudolph and Herbie and the misfit toys, it's being different in a world where people (and reindeer) want others to look, think and be just like themselves.

By the end of the tale, Santa and the other critters see the value in being different, and everybody sings as Santa's sleight wings its way through the night.

Despite the hoo-ha, 83% of folks polled still chose Rudolph as their favorite TV holiday special. So I think the controversy is a tempest in a teapot, really. Most of us can appreciate that there was a lesson the grown-ups learned in the end, and that even a train with square wheels and a jack-in-the-box named Charlie can be loved.

As to the holiday greeting thing, can we please just stop?

This is the holiday season, and we have Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, Festivus and Kwanzaa, as well as Christmas. So by saying, "Happy Holidays," we're covering all the bases and being inclusive of all folks, a sentiment I'm pretty sure Jesus would be cool with.

Especially since, in all likelihood, the date of his birth was chosen to coincide with Saturnalia, a pagan holiday that celebrated the Winter Solstice. The idea was to get the pagans on board with Christianity by re-purposing a holiday they were already celebrating. (It wasn't until the 4th century that December 25th was designated as the big guy's birthday.)

If the reason for the season is sharing and love of our fellow human beings, doesn't it make sense to go with "Happy Holidays"?

On the other hand, am I going to get my knickers in a twist if someone wishes me a "Merry Christmas"? Nope. I'm going to take it in the spirit in which it's intended, meaning someone is wishing me glad tidings during this festive season.

So, if your coffee cup is red when you wanted it to be green or it doesn't have the greeting you prefer, just drink up, toss the cup and get on with your life.

Happy Merry Holiday Christmas Hanukkah Kwanzaa Winter Solstice Festivus Everyone!

They're Trying to Sleigh Me

It's an occupational hazard, I presume, that causes me to watch television commercials.

While others may turn away or run to the loo, I sit and watch until the bitter end. Particularly during the holiday season.

What amazes me is the number of car commercials. A seemingly endless parade, in fact. A phenomenon which didn't exist (or wasn't as overt) back in the day.

People must buy cars and trucks and SUVs for Christmas, I have to assume, otherwise, it wouldn't pay to advertise them. But it's something that I -- a baby boomer from a modest middle-class family -- cannot fathom.

One in particular has nettled Mr. Ginley since it first began to play. A woman walks into her kitchen with two small indistinct objects in her hand, sets them on the counter, and says, "I did a little early shopping this year." Her husband picks up the object, makes a dismissive comment about it, and says, "I did a little early shopping, too." Whereupon the husband leads the wife back outside to show her two mammoth trucks (his and hers). Except that, in a moment of high hilarity, she chooses the black one, which everybody knows is the boy's. He shrugs and acquiesces to his wife (clearly, playing the role of the little rich girl who always gets her way), and settles on the candy apple red because, "I like red, too."

The best part, at least for Mr. Ginley, is the teeny tiny type at the bottom of the ad that states the sticker price for these behemoths is over $50,000 apiece.

Where do I begin?

First and foremost, of course, how many people spend $100,000 on Christmas? Then, what guy hands over $100,000, then backs down when his wife chooses the $50,000 monstrosity he has his heart set on? Finally, how did the wife miss seeing these two goliaths in her driveway?

I cannot remember what brand of trucks these things were. I suppose it could be argued that if I coveted such things, I would recall. But to me, all the vehicle ads look pretty much alike, they all have their own little bells and whistles, and I know I'm not going to buy one, so I really don't care.

On the other hand, if you're spending a gajillion dollars to create and air a commercial, shouldn't it be memorable, not just for its content, but for who created that content?

Come to think of it, there aren't a lot of jingles or memorable tag lines these days, either.

Said the old-timer who can still sing, "See the USA in a Chevrolet."

Where have you gone, Don Draper?