It seems everyone I know has Tupperware. Yes, it is the most expensive of the plastic containers. Tupperware is more than that now, but, back in the day, if you wanted to save leftovers for anything, you had Tupperware, and the name was synonymous with any plastic container that you put anything in - leftovers, those bagged cereals that Mom tried to convince you were really the box kind but she didn't have room in the pantry for the box, cookies to bring to school, buttons, loose change... you name it, it went into a Tupperware container.
It also seems that everyone I know has Tupperware that does not have a lid. Or, they have lids for Tupperware that has strangely disappeared. Yet, we all keep these things. The containers are more useful without the lids than the lids are without the containers themselves, yet we keep them both. Plastic wrap serves as a suitable substitute for the lost lid. Yet, I think there's more to it than that.
Tupperware has a significance in Americana. Tupperware brings us back to a time when bruises were kissed all better, monsters were chased out from under our beds, and scraped knees were fixed with a popsicle. The imperfections of missing pieces are okay to us. They remind us of our lives.
Life is not perfect. The past is not perfect. Neither is my Tupperware collection. I refuse to throw away old memories because they are imperfect. The same can be said for my Tupperware. I don't throw away the time my dog died and I cried for days. I don't throw away the butter container that now has no bottom (it sits on a plate just fine). I don't throw away the day that I missed the word "spirit" in the spelling bee (spirit, do you believe it?!?!) any more than I throw away the round, rose-colored bowl whose lid is long, long gone.
Of course, along the way, I've bought Tupperware that simply didn't exist back in the day. You may wonder if a $25 ice cream scoop is really worth it... I answer a resounding "Yes!" New Tupperware and new memories. Tupperware has many new products. I liken those to new friendships and new experiences. The old "tried and true" Tupperware can still be purchased too, though. "Tried and true" are family connections, childhood memories and long-standing friendships.
While advertising executives may attempt to tell you that "Cotton is the fabric of our lives," I would like to add that Tupperware is truly our life. Tupperware is our memories. We keep it no matter if Dad microwaved spaghetti in it back in the 80s and it is stained red, or if the lid no longer fits, or burps, or is gone all together. We keep it. We keep our memories the same way. We make new memories every day. Twenty years from now, I hope the Tupperware of today has the same effect. I hope the ice cream scoop (even though it may be scratched and dinged from years in the kitchen drawer) still holds the same value as it does now. I hope the three-course-dinner microwaver ensemble means the same thing (we kept it even though we used one part as a dog dish and Ralphie ate it, so it's really not useful anymore) as the popsicle-maker that we have now (without the sticks... who knows where those went) means now.
Life's not perfect. The world's not perfect. If you're over 30, your Tupperware is not perfect anymore, either. But we love it all. We have to. It's who we are.
Thanks for reading... and thank Tupperware!
Laterzzzzzzzzzzzzz, Taterzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
