Pass the Purel
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
My daughter, Jana arrived fresh from California this past week. With all the bugs floating around, she declared it a major accomplishment to be healthy, hale, and hearty. "Everyone around me has been sick," she said. "Richard's whole family has been sick since Thanksgiving — one after another of them looking a little green, peaked, coughing — and here I stand a specimen of good health and I give the credit to Purel!"
Now, I am no stranger to Purel but strangely enough I only carried it as a necessity when I was traveling in some third world country! I recall running out of that magic liquid in Venezuela and washing my hands with Pepsi because it was the only clean fluid I could find. In India, Purel was once again my constant companion — there were more strange little germs in India than you could "shake a stick at" as my grandma used to say. Grandma would have loved Purel.
My Grandmother Ehrhardt had her own germ cures — soap and water with a healthy dose of Clorox. She used to tell tales of folks she knew who wore garlic cloves around their necks to ward off germs and you could smell them coming. "The garlic worked, one way or another," she chuckled, "we'd keep our distance!" Mom added the ritual of tying a white handkerchief over her nose and mouth if she had to be in the vicinity of sick. She always "hated to do it because I don't want to offend anyone," but necessity often ruled. Mom just now learned about Purel and she's been properly amazed.
Coming from a long line of ladies with the nickname "Mrs. Clean," (excluding her mother) Jana is set up for a Purel addiction. When her Aunt Jess was caught licking the Ajax can as a toddler, we dubbed her "Little Leah," after her Grandmother Ehrhardt. In the footsteps of her ancestors, Jana loves a sterile environment — so much so that when she moved into her first apartment she asked for "cleaning supplies," instead of flowers when we did a housewarming event.
This Purel thing, however, was a new wrinkle. While I've always been leery of public drinking fountains, door knobs on communal bathrooms, and the mouthpieces of public phones, I've never carried a disinfectant in my pocket while within the borders of the United States of America. My daughter set about to change my ways. Fresh from a college biology course she declared, "There are germs everywhere! Have I gotten sick? Something's working in my favor and I say it's Purel!"
I smiled in an amused fashion until we sat down to dinner. After the blessing, I heard the lid on the Purel bottle pop. I smiled to myself, tolerantly. We began passing the mashed potatoes, gravy, corn
"Touche!" Although I've never considered Ramona a third world country, I must concede that I've learned something important — sit down at a restaurant and pass the Purel, shake hands and put on Purel, pay your bill at the grocery, pass the Purel. "I've always told you how dirty money is," says my mother "and don't forget to get some of that good stuff for me."
"We're buying stock options," I countered — and this is something for me, who doesn't even like that anti-bacterial dish soap. It's just another day in the country but we're trying to stay healthy so please pardon our city ways. "Here, have some Purel!"
