just reminded of a very humorous incident that happened to me not too long ago. You want to hear it?”
“OK.”
Stew pushed some of the Tupperware boxes off of the living room sofa and made room for them to sit. He turned and faced her with a warm smile on his face.
“A while back you may have heard that our grandpa Ross was diagnosed with cancer.”
Vivian nodded very apprehensively.
“And after the doctors did all they could, they sent him home to die.”
She nodded again but looked more frightened than apprehensive.
“Although Babs would disagree with me, I was his favorite grandchild and so I spent as much time with him as I could. So one day, we are just sitting in silence and suddenly he asks me, ‘Stew, can you get a dying man a magazine?’ And I said, ‘Sure Gramps, what kind?’ And he said, ‘I want
Eyeful
.’”
This made Vivian’s eyes open wide.
“‘The one with Roma Paige on the cover,’ he added. Now I loved my gramps so I granted him his wish, got the nudie magazine and rushed back to his room. He asked me to check where my grandmother was and I could see her outside pinning up the laundry. Then he told me to leave, closing the door behind me and come back in about 15 minutes.”
Vivian’s brow furrowed.
“So I did as I was told, watched the clock and maybe five minutes later my grandma comes back in and heads for the stairs. I tried to stop her but she wanted to check in on Gramps. She got to his room, put her hand on the doorknob, turned it, entered and . . . ”
Stew just stopped talking. Vivian was about to fall off of the edge of the sofa. “And what?”
“Grandma screamed. On his lap was the opened magazine and a smile on his face. Gramps was dead.”
Stew laughed so hard knowing he must have lightened Vivian’s heavy heart with his keen sense of humor. For a split second her face was blank as she stared at him.
“It’s true, Viv! Ask Babs.”
Suddenly, Vivian’s face scrunched up and she started to cry. Stew stopped laughing as she got to her feet and ran into her bedroom, hysterical.
Stew was completely confused. “Aw, geez.”
• • •
The following week, with no other work options available and with an extra 10 bucks from Babs, Vivian broke down and purchased her Tupperware start-up kit for $35. In 1954, that was a lot of money considering the average American household made $3,960, a pair of nylons cost $1 and a gallon of gas was 21 cents.
A gigantic box was shipped to her from Florida and inside it was a suitcase full of Tupperware. Also included were very precise instructions on how to sell the products, sell yourself and maintain the bookkeeping. But the best thing she had going for her was that she had Stew and Babs to mentor her along the way.
Babs was driving her car down Main Street past the library with Stew squeezed in the back with the Tupperware while Vivian sat in the passenger’s seat struggling with her demonstration speech.
“The Pie Taker provides easy transportation for all your desserts.” She paused, hunting for the next word. She sensed Stew was about to tell her and like a traffic cop she halted his voice with her hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s something about popsicles. Um . . . everyone loves popsicles and now you can make your very own with Tupperware Ice Pops!”
Stew reached forward and touched her shoulder gently. “Ice Tups.”
“Shoot! Why are they called ice tups?”
“Tups . . . Tupperware?”
Vivian was exasperated. “It still doesn’t make sense to me.”
Babs was just aching to talk. “So let me finish telling you about this guy I met, Kenneth.”
Vivian checked her make-up in a compact mirror. “Babs, you always order the same thing: tall, dark and . . . ”
“Disappointing,” Stew added, laughing.
“Kenneth was married but she died. Very sad. He has two kids: Salvatore and Hannah.”
Vivian chuckled. “Are they Italian or Jewish?”
Babs shrugged her shoulders.
“OK.”
Stew pushed some of the Tupperware boxes off of the living room sofa and made room for them to sit. He turned and faced her with a warm smile on his face.
“A while back you may have heard that our grandpa Ross was diagnosed with cancer.”
Vivian nodded very apprehensively.
“And after the doctors did all they could, they sent him home to die.”
She nodded again but looked more frightened than apprehensive.
“Although Babs would disagree with me, I was his favorite grandchild and so I spent as much time with him as I could. So one day, we are just sitting in silence and suddenly he asks me, ‘Stew, can you get a dying man a magazine?’ And I said, ‘Sure Gramps, what kind?’ And he said, ‘I want
Eyeful
.’”
This made Vivian’s eyes open wide.
“‘The one with Roma Paige on the cover,’ he added. Now I loved my gramps so I granted him his wish, got the nudie magazine and rushed back to his room. He asked me to check where my grandmother was and I could see her outside pinning up the laundry. Then he told me to leave, closing the door behind me and come back in about 15 minutes.”
Vivian’s brow furrowed.
“So I did as I was told, watched the clock and maybe five minutes later my grandma comes back in and heads for the stairs. I tried to stop her but she wanted to check in on Gramps. She got to his room, put her hand on the doorknob, turned it, entered and . . . ”
Stew just stopped talking. Vivian was about to fall off of the edge of the sofa. “And what?”
“Grandma screamed. On his lap was the opened magazine and a smile on his face. Gramps was dead.”
Stew laughed so hard knowing he must have lightened Vivian’s heavy heart with his keen sense of humor. For a split second her face was blank as she stared at him.
“It’s true, Viv! Ask Babs.”
Suddenly, Vivian’s face scrunched up and she started to cry. Stew stopped laughing as she got to her feet and ran into her bedroom, hysterical.
Stew was completely confused. “Aw, geez.”
• • •
The following week, with no other work options available and with an extra 10 bucks from Babs, Vivian broke down and purchased her Tupperware start-up kit for $35. In 1954, that was a lot of money considering the average American household made $3,960, a pair of nylons cost $1 and a gallon of gas was 21 cents.
A gigantic box was shipped to her from Florida and inside it was a suitcase full of Tupperware. Also included were very precise instructions on how to sell the products, sell yourself and maintain the bookkeeping. But the best thing she had going for her was that she had Stew and Babs to mentor her along the way.
Babs was driving her car down Main Street past the library with Stew squeezed in the back with the Tupperware while Vivian sat in the passenger’s seat struggling with her demonstration speech.
“The Pie Taker provides easy transportation for all your desserts.” She paused, hunting for the next word. She sensed Stew was about to tell her and like a traffic cop she halted his voice with her hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s something about popsicles. Um . . . everyone loves popsicles and now you can make your very own with Tupperware Ice Pops!”
Stew reached forward and touched her shoulder gently. “Ice Tups.”
“Shoot! Why are they called ice tups?”
“Tups . . . Tupperware?”
Vivian was exasperated. “It still doesn’t make sense to me.”
Babs was just aching to talk. “So let me finish telling you about this guy I met, Kenneth.”
Vivian checked her make-up in a compact mirror. “Babs, you always order the same thing: tall, dark and . . . ”
“Disappointing,” Stew added, laughing.
“Kenneth was married but she died. Very sad. He has two kids: Salvatore and Hannah.”
Vivian chuckled. “Are they Italian or Jewish?”
Babs shrugged her shoulders.
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