chron·i·cles: Sally Forth!

I would like to introduce you to my grandmother, Mary.

Mary has harbored a deep, unwavering, unconditional, though quietly discerning, love for the Bounty paper towel since easily the 1960s. The “quicker picker upper,” she remembers its’ epic introduction into her life in fuzzy flashbacks and notes now, almost shyly, that “of course everyone should have some; you just need them.”

Though she may underplay the affect Bounty has had on her life, there is no way the rest of us can. Let me lay it down for you:

Lil’ Mary buys Bounty in bulk. She buys it in bulk so that she might never ever live to see the day when her home or her children’s homes run out. Mary gives rolls of Bounty out as gifts. She stores emergency family size packs in the nooks and crannies of her home. She lines her window sills with neatly sectioned off squares; that lovely print-side face up. No table top is safe enough without the protection of some. No knick-knack is complete without being placed upon one. Her stove is carefully framed in Bounty. Her medicines are put to bed tucked neatly into a shoebox lined with Bounty. Mary uses Bounty as coasters, as note cards, as one would use doilies, fringe or lace. Mary washes her dishes with Bounty and heats her food in the microwave beneath damp sheets of Bounty.

And on one particularly kooky Thanksgiving, Mary saved a drenched roll of Bounty by running it through the dyer on medium heat and rolling it back up as best she could.