A Brief History of Tupperware

 

Tupperware was a marvel of the 1950 and 1960s. 

Tupperware was invented in 1946 by Earl Tupper.  Tupper was an American chemist who developed lightweight, non-breakable plastic containers for food storage. His innovation included an airtight, "burpable" seal inspired by paint can lids, which helped keep food fresh longer.

Earl Tupper was born in 1907 in Berlin, New Hampshire.  He was educated at Fitchburg High School in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, graduating in 1925.   He briefly attended Bryant College in Rhode Island, where he studied business. He never completed his degree. Instead, he left school to work and pursue his interests in chemistry and invention.  Tupper was largely self-taught in science and engineering, relying on hands-on experience, experimentation, and work in industrial settings like DuPont, where he first worked with polyethylene.  Tupper did not invent polyethylene but

Polyethylene was first discovered in 1898 by German chemist Hans von Pechmann and later developed into a usable plastic in 1933 by British scientists Eric Fawcett and Reginald Gibson at Imperial Chemical Industries (ICI).  It became widely produced during World War II, primarily for insulating radar cables due to its durability and moisture resistance.  Tupper’s genius was becoming a great innovator of the use of polypropylene in high volume consumer products.

Despite its practicality and innovation, early Tupperware products didn’t sell well in stores. The turning point came in the early 1950s when Brownie Wise, a savvy saleswoman, introduced the concept of the Tupperware Party. This direct-sales method allowed women to demonstrate and sell the products in their homes, creating a social and empowering business model for housewives.  These parties were quite popular in the 1950s and 60s. 

Brownie Wise (1913-1992) was born in Buford, GA.  She got married in 1936, they moved to Detroit where she divorced and ended living in Dearborn, MI with her mother.  Wise was an executive secretary at Bendix Aviation during World War II.  After the war, she became a salesperson for Stanley Home Products using the then nascent direct sales approach of home parties.  Based on her success, she wanted to be an executive of the company.  Soley because she was a woman, the founder of the company flat-out turned her down.

Wise then discovered Tupperware, was impressed, and started selling it party model.  She soon had 19 distributors working with her and, in 1949, she reached $150,000 (almost $2 million today) in sales more than any other store.   Wise was offered the distributorship in Florida.  She moved there and named her company:  Patio Parties.  Wise was so successful that Tupper made her VP of Tupperware Home Parties in 1951.  At Wise’s urging, Tupperware stopped selling to retailers and focused exclusively on the direct home sales model.

A rift eventually developed between Tupper and Wise. It became one of the most dramatic breakups in American business history. On the surface, they seemed like the perfect team.  Tupper was a quiet, methodical inventor who created an innovative new plastic container system.  Wise was dynamic and charismatic marketing genius who figured out how to sell it to the postwar American public. Together, they turned Tupperware into a household name by pioneering the home party sales model—an approach that empowered women in the 1950s and created a community-driven method of direct marketing. Yet behind the scenes, tensions brewed over fame, control, and the very identity of the brand.

Tupper was uncomfortable with the spotlight and valued technical precision and corporate order. Wise, by contrast, thrived in public. As the architect of the Tupperware Party, she became the charismatic face of the company—speaking at rallies, training a growing network of saleswomen, and even gracing the cover of BusinessWeek (the first woman to do so). Her visibility and popularity eclipsed that of Tupper, who bristled at being overshadowed in a business that he found and that bore his name.

Over time, their relationship grew strained. Wise’s bold management style and growing influence clashed with Tupper’s preference for conservative business practices. He grew increasingly frustrated with the party culture Wise fostered, which he saw as unprofessional and overly emotional. In 1958, without warning, Tupper fired Wise and erased her from company history. Shortly thereafter, he sold Tupperware to Rexall Drugs for $16 million and walked away from the business entirely, even going so far as to renounce the use of his own name in connection with the brand.

The split between Tupper and Wise is more than just a corporate feud—it reflects broader themes of gender dynamics, recognition, and the tension between innovation and marketing. Brownie Wise helped build an empire, yet she was cast aside at the height of her influence, a fate not uncommon for women in business at the time. Meanwhile, Tupper’s refusal to share the spotlight ensured that his product remained his legacy, even as he left behind the very people who brought it to life.

Tupperware's popularity grew globally throughout the mid-20th century, becoming a household name. However, in recent years, the company has struggled with declining sales and competition from modern food storage brands and multichannel retail rooted in shifting consumer habits, mismanagement, and a brand struggling to redefine itself in the 21st century.

For decades, Tupperware was synonymous with airtight food storage and the famous in-home parties that made it a household name. But as retail landscapes changed and online shopping eclipsed door-to-door sales, Tupperware struggled to modernize. Efforts to pivot toward digital marketing and retail partnerships were inconsistent, and the brand lost ground to more agile competitors like Rubbermaid, Ziploc, and newer, trendier food storage startups.

By 2023, Tupperware's financial woes had become dire. Mounting debt, declining sales, and an outdated distribution model pushed the company toward collapse. In April of that year, Tupperware issued a warning that it might not be able to continue as a going concern, sending shockwaves through both consumers and investors. Retail delisting followed, and bankruptcy loomed. For a time, it appeared the iconic brand might disappear altogether.

But in 2024, Tupperware began a slow and strategic comeback. The company restructured its debt and secured new financing, allowing it to avoid formal bankruptcy. A fresh leadership team introduced a turnaround plan focused on product innovation, global licensing partnerships, and a significant push into retail and e-commerce. Collaborations with brands like Target helped reintroduce Tupperware to younger audiences in more accessible venues. Social media campaigns and sustainability messaging—emphasizing reusable over disposable products—also played a role in reviving interest.

Tupperware’s survival and re-emergence did not come from reviving its mid-century party roots, but rather from embracing a modern, multichannel approach to consumers. While the road ahead remains uncertain, the brand's durability—both literal and metaphorical—has given it a second chance in the marketplace.  It remains to be seen if this revitalized Tupperware will make it.

 

 

Thinking of Two Departed Boy Scout Friends: Gary and Glenn

Gary and Glenn
Favorite photos of them from FB

One of the most important parts of my grade school years was my kindergarten through 7^th grade time at Robert Burns Elementary School in Detroit.  Closely intertwined with those wonderful school, teachers, and classmates was my time in the Cub Scout Pack 223 and Boy Scouts 223 which were also based out of Burns School.

One of my Boy Scout friends was Gary Bull (12/5/51-5/3/16).  I had not seen Gary nor heard from Gary since 1967 or 68.  This happened with many of the people I knew from Burns and Boy Scouts.  I opted to go to Cass Technical High School downtown, whereas almost everyone else that was still in the neighborhood went to Cooley High School.  We simply lost touch as we all gradually moved out of Detroit in those turbulent times in the city.  

 Gary and I lived in the same neighborhood.  His house was a short block away. He was a year and a half older than me.  The age difference means nothing once your grow up but in grade school and junior high it was a bigger deal.  Gary was a grade ahead of.  We only knew each from Boy Scouts. He was a very cool and was like a big brother to me and just about everyone else in the our troop.  He loved the scouts and scouting.  He was a good friend.

Beyond being a friend and fellow scout there is one of the thing that Gary did for me that I will be forever grateful.  I stopped playing the violin in the 7^th grade.  There were a few reasons for this (probably a future blog topic).  I was not entirely happy about it but I did it nonetheless.  Gary and I were hanging out one day and somehow, we got to talking about me dropping out of violin.  At that time, Gary was taking guitar lessons, was really into rock and roll, and even performed at a few Boy Scout gatherings with a couple of other scouts.  He suggested I take up the guitar which is something I had never considered.  He was very convincing and inspiring.  So, I took him up on it.  We went to the music shop on Grand River and Strathmoor where they had a selection of new and used guitars.  I bought a very basic no-name steel string acoustic for like $5.  It was surprisingly playable for the paltry price.  Gary then became my guitar teacher.  He taught me like ten or twelve chords and had me strumming some three and four chord popular songs like Gloria, Louie Louie, and House of the Rising Sun.

My guitar career was nothing special and short-lived, but he revived my interest in music performance.  A year or so later, I tuned my guitar like an oud, loved it, and never looked back.  Next thing I know, I had an oud and shortly thereafter, I was playing gigs.  I developed a lifelong dedication to the oud and am still out playing sixty-five years later.  Gary played a key role in a most valued part life.  After reconnecting, my interest in the guitar naturally was revived and I have taken a few lessons and am trying to master the fingerboard.  Whenever I pick up my guitar, I think of Gary, and play House of the Rising Sun.

Thanks to the best part about Facebook, Gary and I reconnected in June 2013.  We messaged each other and caught up.  I did have a chance to thank him for his pivotal role in my musical journey.  He had some health issues which progressively got worse leading to his passing. 

For some reason, Gary popped into my head on June 17th.  I thought I would go on Facebook and look at his page, look at some old photos, and reflect on my old Boy Scout friend.  Before I had a chance to type Gary’s name in the search box, I saw a post on Glenn Baugh's site.  It sadly stated: “This is Glenn's family. Our hearts are hurting deeply over the loss of our dad, papa, husband and brother. No more pain or suffering. We will see you later!”  My heart became heavy. 

Glenn (8/15/53-6/14/25) was another friend from Burns and Boy Scouts.  I knew Glenn from either Kindergarten or first grade.  We were in classes together at Burns and Cadillac Jr. High.  We also took violin lessons together.  Glenn was a wonderful fellow.  I recall him as a quiet but very kind and friendly fellow.  I remember him as a good student.  His schoolwork and everything he did was meticulous to my less organized self.  I remember admiring this in my friend, and aspired to his level of presentation.  I never really got there until college.   

Glenn used to participate in Cub Scout baseball and then some of the epic games we playing as young teenagers on the Cooley athletic fields.  If I recall, Glenn was a lefty, the only one in our pick-up games, and he could really belt the ball.  He lived right across the street on Coyle from Cooley High’s athletic fields.  Glenn was part of the football game I wrote about in A Veteran’s Day Memory.  He played quarterback a bit in that game and I remember affectionately calling him Sammy Baugh because of some great passes he threw that day.   It was a glorious day in an innocent time just before everything changed for decades in Detroit.

As with Gary, Facebook allowed me to reconnect with Glenn, coincidentally, in June of 2013.  We exchanged birthday greetings, commented on each other’s posts, and we caught up in texts.  In 2020, he sent a message asking me if I remembered him and asked that I not forget him.  I understood he was saying bye and was probably just diagnosed with something chronic.  I wrote him back immediately but he never responded to the texts I sent him that day or the birthday greetings in ensuing years. 

I remember Glenn telling me about his summer trips to the Keweenaw Peninsula in Michigan’s upper peninsula.  Glenn’s heritage was Finnish and Finns settled in the Keweenaw Peninsula primarily due to economic opportunities offered by the copper mining boom in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  I was fascinated by this place because of Glenn's stories and enthusiasm.  Because of this, I always wanted to visit Keweenaw, which is something I should still do.

In Scouts, I remember Glenn and his father, Harold, basically funding the Troop 223 by getting us to collect old newspapers and recycling them for a few cents per pound.  The Baughs initiated these paper drives.  Eventually, all the boys in the troop participated.  Truth be told, Glenn and his father collected more than the rest of the troop combined maybe even by a factor of two or three.  The troop bought a trailer to use for caring our camping gear, but the greater use of the trailer, by a long shot, was to take loads and loads of paper to the recycling center.  I admired Glenn and his dad for their hard work and quiet determination.

Reading what friends and family posted about Glenn and Gary was most heartwarming.  Everything I loved about these two fellows as kids and teens became traits for which they were loved and admired for in the adult and family lives. 

When I finally got to Gary’s Facebook page, I was amazed by the number of posts from his family and friends since he passed.  They all missed him for the same kinds of easy going inspiration, mentoring, and friendship he provided to me way back in the 1960s.

I am sorry for the passing of my two schoolmates and fellow scouts.  I am ever so blessed and appreciative that we were able to reconnect and get to know each other again before they passed.  

 Rest well Gary and Glenn.

Chidem Inch:

 

Originally published in The Armenian Weekly.

On June 25, 2025, it was announced that the Armenian-language Hairenik Weekly and the English-language The Armenian Weekly would publish their final print editions that week and transition to exclusively online platforms moving forward.

From my perspective, it was not a matter of ‘if,’ but more a matter of “when.”

Newspapers across the country and the world have struggled with the growth, and now dominance, of online media. The Armenian Weekly is no exception. The same content is offered online for free, whereas the print edition cost about $130 per year. Many folks I know read the Weekly online, avoided the subscription costs and accessed the articles as soon as they were posted—rather than waiting five to 10 days for the print edition to arrive in their mailbox.

It was clear, anecdotally, that print subscriptions were in decline and online readership was on the rise. We knew that we needed to support the Weekly financially. So, we never gave up our print subscription. To help sustain it, we also gifted subscriptions to family members who had stopped subscribing to the Weekly. We supported the occasional Hairenik fundraisers and sponsored pages for the AYF Olympic Special Edition and a few of the special magazine issues of the Weekly. It was nothing exorbitant, but we felt we were doing our part.

There is also something nostalgic about the tactile feel of an actual newspaper. Seeing the Weekly in the mailbox always made me happy. We would flip through paper the day it arrived and often reread the same articles we had seen online. 

When I think of the print editions of the Weekly, three stories come to mind. First, as a child, I fondly recall my grandfather, Levon Merian, sitting on the sofa or a glider on the front porch reading the Hairenik, which was a daily paper back then. I remember him slowly reading the words in a faint whisper. Admittedly, there is nothing profound in this memory—but seeing the paper in his hands, written in the script Mesrob Mashdots created, had me admiring my grandfather. It made me reflect on how he escaped the Turkish army work detail to make his way to Detroit—and it made me a bit prouder of our heritage. Were he reading the Hairenik on an iPhone…well, you get the picture.

The second memory is when we relocated from Detroit to Wilton, Connecticut in 1990. With all the tasks and details involved in making such a move, we had to inform the Hairenik Association of our address change. I was excited when the first Weekly was delivered—not forwarded—to our new address. The paper seemed thicker. I wondered if perhaps it was a special issue. 

It was not. There were two papers—one inside of the other. Maybe I was getting the first two issues of the Weekly to our new address, I thought.

No, they had the same issue. One was labeled with our name and address, and the second was to a Garo Lehmejian, who also lived in Wilton. This all happened standing by the mailbox, mind you.  My first thought was, “God, the Weekly and the U.S. Postal Service” wants me to get to know this fellow, Garo.”

I looked up his number in an old-fashioned phone book and called him. We were about the same age—he was a New York Hyortik and I was a Detroit Tandourjian. We knew many of the same people, but not each other. Garo invited us over that evening, and we have been friends ever since. A print edition miracle, for sure.

Lastly, once upon a time, my friend Tom Zakarian and I were discussing the intricacies and best practices of cooking kebab. We debated charcoal versus propane grills and the merits of this marination or that. We talked about the ritual of men standing around, offering opinions on whether this skewer should or shouldn’t be turned just yet. Then, we stumbled upon an insight that I am only now sharing with the world: our grandparents’ kebab tasted better because of one overlooked, obvious fact. They stoked the coals to the perfect temperature by using a newspaper folded in a most special way and fanned using an equally unique backhanded technique.   

But they did not use any old newspaper. The Boston Globe, the Detroit Free Press, the Chicago Tribune or the New York Times were all inferior for this part of the process. The paper had to be the Hairenik, in Armenian—nothing else would do. 

What is the food science behind this? There is none. It simply is. In our memories, it made the kebab taste better. What will we do now for good kebab without the print edition of the Hairenik?

It is most natural to lament when something we love changes or is taken from us. We didn’t like it when Uncle Ben’s became Ben’s. We were used to Uncle Ben’s—it was a staple in many Armenian households. It didn’t matter that it was the same product in the box with a different name and logo and that the pilaf tasted exactly the same. People also mourned the demise of an iconic department store in the center of town. For Detroit Armenians, it was the downtown JL Hudson department store—where they used to shop for clothes, furniture and other household goods. We had fond memories of that store, especially the magical place it was transformed into at Christmas time. 

Yet, no one stops to think that they hadn’t been to that store in a decade or so. It closed because it was just oh-so-convenient to shop in suburban malls where we all had moved to. 

With these kinds of changes comes an initial shock of losing something that was part of our lives. That shock quickly turns into nostalgia, which may well include mumbling about how much simpler and slower-paced life was back then. A generation later, even the nostalgia is gone. Product and service providers need to adapt to economic drivers and consumer whims to survive. If they don’t, they go bankrupt and cease to exist altogether. The sense of loss will eventually pass, especially if the replacement product or service offers more benefits.

I can imagine a Weekly website that offers not only the core content we’re used to, but much more. We already enjoy free access to news that is more real-time than a weekly newspaper could ever deliver. If we miss an article from last year or a few years ago? You can search and read them with relative ease.

Moving forward, I can see a toggle button on many—if not, all—articles, allowing us the option to read the piece in Armenian or English. While the print paper was limited to 12-16 pages, a web-based offering could provide much more content. We could have more commentary, photos, art, literature and poetry, as well as more articles by members of various organizations—especially our young people in the AYF and AYF Juniors. I can envision a subscription for premium content, which might include things like more in-depth articles, videos, podcasts and more. 

What is the downside? Well, for me, it is simple: I will feel the loss of the print version, which has been part of the décor of the family rooms in our home for decades. There is also the aforementioned loss of holding the paper, folding it and hearing it crinkle. I will miss the print edition, even though I’ve already been spending more time in recent years on the Weekly website than actually reading the print version.

How will I cope? When I do miss the print edition, I will grab my phone or laptop, sit on the sofa, go to the Weekly website, select an article and then read it out loud in a quiet whisper.

As for getting the kebab grill to the right temperature without the Hairenik or Weekly to fan the coals? Heck, I switched to propane in the 1980s. It was just so much more convenient.

Old TV Shows

An Iconic TV Franchise

 

This month, my interest in Law & Orders was not as strong as the first go around.  My interest shifted to TV Westerns from the 1950s and early 1960s.   I have watched the Lone Ranger, Bat Masterson, Tombstone Territory, and Tales of Wells Fargo.  I really liked The Lone Ranger.  It was a show I loved as a kid, and it was familiar and warming to watch it again as an adult.  All of these shows were half-hour Western dramas with the same formula.  A dastardly crime was committed, and then the protagonist solved the crime within the half-hour.  True to the 1950s ethos, the good guys always won.

In recovering from knee surgeries back in January and now in June.  It took a few weeks to get back to get back to my normal mental self.  This was due to the anesthesia to wearing off and then weaning myself off the pain meds.  The first time around, I had two Jack Reacher books staged to read in my recovery.  The first took a full week to read simply because of my less than normal concentration.  I read the second book in two days. 

I also watched TV as well.  In January, I watched a lot of Law and Order reruns.  They held my interest, and I always liked that series.  The "Law & Order" franchise is one of the most influential and long-running television franchises in the history of American TV. Created by Dick Wolf, it first premiered in 1990 and has since expanded into six interconnected series that explore one crime in each episode.  The first half of each episode is about and crime and how law enforcement investigates and find the perpetrators.  In the second half, the show shifts to the legal system trying the perpetrators for the crime.  It is a wonderfully crafted format that has lasted 35 years and still in production.  I watched re-runs which are almost always on a handful of re-run cable networks.

The Lone Ranger was a former Texas Ranger.  We never knew the Lone Ranger’s name as he preferred to roam and do his good deeds anonymously.  His desire to remain anonymous was so strong, he wore a mask further protect his anonymity.  The Lone Ranger was assisted and his loyal Native American companion Tonto. Together, they roamed the American West fighting injustice, helping settlers, and defending the innocent.  They found crimes and injustice that needed righting in every episode.  Once they righted the wrong, the did not stick around to get thanks or bask in the glory of their good deed.  Instead the humbly rode off in search of their next adventure.

The Lone Ranger TV series ran from 1949-1957.  There were 221 shows in the series.  Clayton Moore and John Hart played the Lone Ranger.  Jay Silverheels was Tonto.

There is a Detroit connection to the Lone Ranger that I sort of knew about but never knew what it was.  In preparing for this post, I learned that the TV series was the natural extension of the widely popular Lone Ranger radio show.  The Lone Ranger, as well as the Green Hornet, were created by George W. Trendle and Fran Striker who were based in Detroit.  The Lone Ranger debuted on WXYZ, a large Detroit radio station, on January 30, 1933.  It aired in only in Detroit before going national. 

I owe a debt to the Law and Order franchise and the Lone Ranger for entertaining me through my recovery.  While, they were not prescribed by any medical experts, they were sure helpful in the healing process from knee replacements.

Is World Peace Possible?

 

On September 19, 2023, Azerbaijan began a military offensive that drove 120,000 Armenians out of Artsakh (Nogorno Karabagh) to the Republic of Armenia.   The Armenians have been trying to negotiate a peace with Azerbaijan from a very weak position since then and it appears they will cede even more lands.

A few weeks later on October 7, 2023, Hamas attacked Israel killed people about 1200 people and taking 251 hostages.  Israel responded with a brutal war on Gaza killing at least 55,000 to date, destroying or damaging 90% of the housing units, and putting millions in a desperate situation with food and medical supplies being very scarce.

And just this past few weeks, Israel began bombing targets in Iran and, just this weekend, the US attacked the nuclear refining facilities in Iran.  Iran attacked back,  The buzz in the news and social media is that we are on the brink of World War III.  Are we?

All along, the war in Russia-Ukraine rolls on as does the civil war in the Sudan.  There are probably other wars I am unaware of simply because the numbers involved, like the plight of the Artsakh Armenians, are just too small to be covered in the world news.

It is 2025 and we seem further away from World Peace as we have ever been.  The march of science and technology has allowed us to kill, injure, and displace people with greater and greater efficiency.  All the conflicts mentioned were initiated by dictators or wannabe dictators, duly elected or otherwise.  These men, the leaders of countries or extensive organizations, are incapable of negotiating with other to get to a peaceful settlement.

This quest for and addiction to power over others is a very human trait.  It is apparent in any number of small groups from school classrooms, think bullies, to overbearing family members, those that make a social or philanthropic clubs their own, and dictatorial bosses in organizations of any size.  All religions call for some variation of the Golden Rule but the dictators and despots referred to here use the differences in these religions to stir the emotions of the people they rule and, aided by social media, they have gotten very good at this.

While contemplating all of this I came across a quotation from Marin Luther King that applies as well today as when he uttered it over fifty years ago.  It was posted in social media and is from Strength to Love (1963) ch. 7 per Oxford Reference:

The means by which we live have outdistanced the ends for which we live. Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men. 

All of this makes me think of my high school days when so many believed that we were entering the Age of Aquarius popularized by the musical Hair back in the 1960s.  Per Google AI:

The Age of Aquarius is a concept from astrology that signifies a shift in the Earth's alignment with the constellations, marking a period of significant change and transformation. It's associated with themes of innovation, humanitarianism, equality, technology, and collective consciousness.

As Martin Luther King noted, we have the innovation and technology going for us but are lacking in the humanitarianism, equality, and collective consciousness parts.  Will we ever overcome this barrier?

These thoughts why are so poor at creating a peaceful world had me thinking of the classic Bob Dylan anthem of the 1960s.  The answers all around us, Blowin’ in the Wind, and simultaneously always just out of our grasp.

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, and how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they're forever banned?

 

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

 

Yes, and how many years must a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
Yes, and how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, and how many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see?

 

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

 

Yes, and how many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, and how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, and how many deaths will it take 'til he knows
That too many people have died?

 

The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

The Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish, wrote this poem which truly captures what is happening to too many people in this world in these days.

The war will end

The leaders will shake hands.

The old woman will

keep waiting for her martyred son.

 

The girl will wait for

her beloved husband.

And those children will wait

for their heroic father.

 

I don’t know
who sold our homeland.

But I saw who paid the price.

The people who pay the price are the vast majority of us who just want to live our lives in peace and safety.  The people who want nothing more than to nurture and feed their families with work that gives them pride and self-worth. 

These sages, King, Dylan, and Darwish, have basically outlined the reality that keeps us from world peace.  Is it a normative, elusive, notion to believe it could happen?  Others have envisioned a Shagri La or Utopia   It would be easy, today, to take the negative, defeatist, view of all this.  I will admit that I may be naïve, but I still have faith that we can.

Living Room Memories

 

When I grew up, we were probably middle or lower-middle class.  The first three homes we lived in were flats.  The fourth was a one-family home.  Each of these houses had only three communal or gathering rooms:  the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room.  Other than for meals, the living room was the central gathering place for family and guests.  It is where the television and phonograph were.  It was where we lived and interacted in most of our waking hours at home.

It wasn’t until we moved to Livonia, that we had a family room, a fourth gathering room.  Our married homes in Bloomfield Hills, MI, Wilton, Ct, and now Lake Forest, IL all have family rooms.  In each of these homes, the family room became the main gathering place for family life.  The living room was rarely used.  It was used basically used mainly when we had a house full of guests.

I have basically spent the last 13 days of knee replacement recuperation in our family room.  Even at night, I sleep in the old guy ortho recliner in the family room.  When I woke up this morning at around 6 am, I decided to go sit in our living room and do my daily writing.  It was, of course, a change of venue.  I also wanted to use the lovely room we rarely use.  It was a beautiful clear summer morning and sunshine made the room glow.

I did read about our bombing of the three nuclear facilities yesterday on various news sites.  I read the polarized social media postings and comments.  They were most certainly polarized around whether one was pro or anti-Trump confounded with being pro and anti-Israel.  Our world suddenly became more serious and grimmer.  I will certainly have to post more about this in the next few days.

But this lovely morning, I shut the laptop and reflected on living rooms.  These reflections quickly gravitated to the living rooms in my grandparents’ homes in Detroit and Watertown; living rooms where I have so many fond memories growing up.  The furniture, carpet, wall paper, tables, lamps, and woodwork, the scenery, of those living rooms where merely the scenery.  It was the people, the family and the guests that gathered in those rooms along with what we all said, did, and shared.  It was also a time when my grandparents were more vibrant and active. 

I was thinking of my own living rooms and how this one was the most finely appointed of all of them and the least used.  I was sipping a double espresso in a demitasse from Armenia and enjoying the moment.  It was a most lovely way to spend a Sunday morning.

Tomorrow I will be returning to a more normal schedule and attending to things that need to be done.  Jokingly, I have returned to posts like this as a blog about nothing.  Well, this may seem like that to many.  It is nothing profound.  It won’t change anything in the world.  It may trigger a warm memory for a few others of their own grandparents’ living rooms.  For me, it is also small theme on the grand scale of things but this morning it took center stage.

We have two grandchildren coming to Camp Medzig and Dede, as they call us, in August.  I hope we can have some wonderful times that became fond memories for them.  Whether the backdrop is our living or family room doesn’t matter.