Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Plastic glasses

One of our students broke a glass last night while emptying the dishwasher.  There were shards everywhere.  It struck me, that was not something that ever happened to me in my younger years, because we never had glass drinking glasses. Well perhaps I should qualify that.  There was a set of four little juice glasses and a pitcher to match, with little red roosters adorning their clear sides.  

Off the internet, but I think this is the same pattern.
However I don't ever recall this set seeing use.  If you examine the photo below you will see them, sitting in middle of the buffet, directly above yours truly's little head.

When we bottle-fed little dairy calves, each bag of milk-replacer came with a small white plastic measuring glass.  Two of these cups made their way to the kitchen after the bag emptied in the barn.  For years, one of these was my drinking glass at the table.  I was a recycler long before it was in vogue to recycle.  Through time the red lettered measurements and logo, faded and chipped off.  All of our drinking glasses were plastic. Mom loved their durability - they never broke. One set of four was varying shades of green with metallic speckles and flecks embedded in them.  Another set were just plain translucent green.

Mom, Dad, yours truly, the glasses and a photo that brings back a lot of memories.  You'll probably see it again.
In my teen years, a new set of four replaced some of the worst cracked of these.  These were three lime green and one peach coloured one.  It was Mom's.  Mom never liked glass, drinking glasses.  No doubt the plastic ones were more durable, but to me, they were symbol of how poor we were.  Everywhere else we went, the hostess always had beautiful drinking glasses on the table.  I always felt a sense of embarrassment when our Sunday company was offered our shabby set of 'plastics'.

Even though various sets of real drinking glasses were bought by family members, they all found their way to the back reaches of the top cupboards, and a new set of green, yellow, red and blue cups saw regular duty in Mom's modern new kitchen.  Old ways die hard, and maybe to Mom, plastic's durability was more important than glass's fragile beauty.

And that is about all I have to say for today.

Musings and meanderings from the Musical Gardener.

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