Pepper please
Having grown up in the country, my dad hoarded toilet paper. When we got ready to move them from Oregon to Kansas, we packed a complete moving carton full of toilet paper that they had stored in the garage, "just in case."
It's because our parents grew up in the days of the great Depression where money was scarce and toilet paper even more scarce. You know what they used? Catalogs. Ever tried to use that slick, stiff paper? Even I remember it well, as part of the experience of visiting Grandma's house. If the Sears and Roebuck catalog ran out, they resorted to corn cobs.
I must admit that I have a stash of toilet paper myself. It's not because I fear running out and having to use catalogs or junk mail, it's just that I have found a brand that I like and every store doesn't carry it. This brand is nurturing, It's soft. It has ALOE in it and is about as far from catalogs or corn cobs as you can get.
When I first brought home my cushy paper, we had a small problem. "It's so soft you aren't sure if it's done what toilet paper is supposed to do," my sister moaned, "and in the middle of the night, I don't like guessing!"
Evidently more people than Jess had their doubts about my toilet paper. It was rather difficult to find. I had to buy it when and where it was available and keep the extra under my bed.
Speaking of toilet paper, I've got to tell you an old-time story — and it's true. My aunt Frieda worked at Strickler's Store in Ramona when she was a teenager. One day old Mr. Sader came in and said to her, "I vant sum pepper."
"Pepper?" said Aunt Frieda trying to understand the German brogue and the request. He nodded and she retrieved a can of black pepper from the shelf behind her. "Here you are," she said..
"No, pepper. PEPPER. I vant vite pepper," he said with irritation.
When she continued to look bewildered, he said, " Ach, gimme sum toilet pepper!"
The last time I went to the market to get my soft, cushy Aloe toilet paper, they'd changed the recipe and added something else to make it even more appealing: vitamin E and chamomile. Really?
I felt like Mr. Sader in Strickler's Mercantile. I wanted to holler "Ach, yust gimme sum toilet pepper!" Pray tell, why do I need an antioxidant and a calming sleepy-time herbal tea in it?
It's another day in the country and my bum is definitely feeling nurtured, healed, enriched, and calm. Would Grandpa have believed this possible?
"Who needs it?" Grandpa would have said, shaking his head. After all, he already knew the secret for crushing up those catalog pages and working them over in his hand until they were as soft as a baby's butt before he applied them to his own. And he did it all without aloe, vitamin E, and chamomile tea. — Pat Wick
