If you know then you know. This day had to happen eventually. It was finally time to empty the Pyrex out the butler's pantry and edit through my collection. For years I've spent endless hours at yard and estate sales picking up pieces and sets that have spent more time on the shelves than in use. I realize I have a problem, a Pyrex problem, but why?
There's a part of me, well a part of my brain, that's attracted to things from the past. I won't even tell you about my mixer and blender addiction. And then there's the Lionel trains that I have to tackle, hundreds of them, all sitting in bins, just waiting, for something. But I think deep down my thing is not letting go of things I never really had. My Dad wasn't a Lionel guy, and my Mom wasn't a Pyrex girl. I think the trigger for me is holding on to something I wish I had experienced, or aways wanted to try and create.
I started getting into Lionel trains in the mid-1990's when my sons were born. I thought I could re-create scenes like I saw in the ads. A father and son bonding over the hobby of toy trains. That became an obsession, to a point, in a time before eBay and Facebook Marketplace made "the get" lose a little bit of it's allure. Spending hours digging in peoples attics and basements searching for the Mother Lode.
Or standing in line with a number in hand waiting to get through the door at an estate sale before the vendors and flippers did. "Where's the trains?" I would ask as I handed my entry ticket over and stepped over the threshold. But the truth is the kids, both my sons and daughters, never really bit on it, no matter how I tried to push it on them. The same went for fly fishing. I bought them their first fly rods and that lasted for a few outings before I realized they wanted to fish with bait and actually catch fish. And no doubt technology came and blew up any chance of hands on type hobbying with that generation.
And the Pyrex thing appealed to another part of my brain. Now are they beautiful, at least to me, and they bring me back to a time when I think people and families were different. Was that wishful or pie-in-the-sky thinking, or jealousy, on my part? Well maybe. If you look at the old ads it may appear to be a touch out or reality, or for some people, even archaic or Neanderthal thinking. These ads and products came during a time when a women's place was in the home, or with Pyrex, in the kitchen.
Say that today and you'll be cancelled pretty quickly. But, for me, I love everything about those ads and maybe those times in our country's history. But do I believe that women have to be home and in the kitchen? Well, no, but in a perfect world, it's really nice, if they choose to be. Now I have to careful on how I state that or else I'll be cancelled and you won't come back here. But there's nothing like a Mom that's home as you're growing up, it's just really good on so many fronts.
The fifties, sixties, and seventies, were a time when this country was at its best. Perfect. No. There were plenty of things that were bad. Wars. Discrimination. Those that lived during those times and are historians could school me on all the things that were happening and we grew out of, and some for the better. But it was also during those times that I think the neighborhoods and family units were at their best. Father's went off to work. Mother's stayed home and ran the house. And the kids had stability and always knew what daily routines meant.
It was a time when we could survive on a one household income. Back then there were more blue color jobs and things were more local. People worked where they lived, although plenty of white collar workers would commute to the bigger cities by rail, bus, and car. So while Dad was off making a living Mom would be the CEO of the house. Doing the laundry, cleaning the house, shopping and making the meals, balancing the checkbooks, being there to greet the kids when they came off the bus, shuttling them to after school activities (if the family had two cars), and running the household 24/7. And she'd be there to greet her other half when they got home from work, only to have to send them off early the next morning.
"That's sexist", well it shouldn't be. Because that's what happened back in the day. Today I stand by that those times made the family units more stabile, not perfect, than we see today. And, more importantly, that I wish we could return to those times, with either a man or the woman, designated as the stay at home parent, able to stay home. But these days we need two incomes to maintain a household, because we've chosen that way of life. Years ago people lived within their means, not way above it. There were poor, middle class, and rich. It's just the way it was, and that still continues today. But today's problem is people that exist is one of those classes and want to live bigger and above their means, or where they truly belong.
Will I ever live in Rumson? Nope. Not smart enough. Not rich enough. I know my place. Years ago people could live and support a family, like have a car, own a house, and send their kids to college on a blue color factory or hands on type job. If they didn't own then they rented, and lived with similar class people in neighborhoods of like minded, looking, thinking, and financed people.
Recently I saw the below picture on Facebook. If you know then you know. It's a family standing in front of the Christopher Columbus Homes in Newark (above). It stood on what was the old First Ward in North Newark. In the 1950's they bulldozed over single and multi-family homes and created affordable housing, thus wiping out an entire neighborhood of Italian immigrants.
It was block after block of high rise living for low income families. In the beginning, after talking to people who lived there, living was good. And if you look at the picture of the family above, it kinda looked like it was. Dad off to work, Mom at home with the kids, and a lot of them. Then things went to shit. I caught the tail end of the 7th Avenue projects when I was a firemen and EMT in the early 1990's and I can you it was like going to a war zone.
So what does that have to do with Pyrex and my mental illness about them? Well, I think, or maybe I'm delusional, that even in those brick towers Pyrex could be found. It wasn't a rich families possession but one that was used everyday across the class lines. To me, it represented everyday American life, when it was good, or at least better. The Pyrex was used, proudly displayed, and hopefully not dropped or chipped. And if survived over time then it was handed down to the generation, usually to the daughters, for them to continue the tradition of old family, well I hate to say it, values. To be safe let's just a families day to day operations.
Several times a year I drag out some of my Pyrex collection for actual use. I get excited when I do, more than the other people sitting at the table. My stuff is near mint. No scratches, no chips, hardly with any signs of use. I put them out more for a throw back experience then day to day use. In the end I think I get more warm and fuzzy using them then anyone else.
So as the downsizing continues I had to make some tough decisions. What to do with all of this Pyrex? Surely we don't need it and won't have room for it as we downsize. And surely "the get" was always part of the Pyrex game, not the dusty collection just sitting on the shelves. So yesterday Erin and I used my Pyrex collector's book to identify when they were made and which sets they came with. I had first dibs and after making the painstaking decision I packed what I wanted into just one bin.
The picture above with the pieces on the table is after I made my choices and Erin as well. I put aside some sets for the kids and will send them off to them, if they like it or not. These days kids want nothing, and especially nothing that wasn't a part of their reality, or delusion, like Pyrex is to me. And that's okay, I guess, and definitely more mentally healthy. But maybe one day, as my remains sit on a shelf in one of their houses, they'll reach into their cabinet and pull one of these out to use with their family. And maybe they'll remember me, and what role Pyrex played in millions of households during the long gone good days in America.