What is normal, anyway?
We knew our reporting on "Huggable Urns" reminded us of something.
So we ventured into the dusty vault of old John stories and found the one that was trying to resurface -- in my mind if nowhere else.
It's from 2003, and is about a woman named Laraine Harford, who had finally found the Tasmanian Devil cookie jar she had been searching for -- with the intention of spending eternity inside of it.
It was Harford -- an offbeat sort, much like Alexandra Lachini, the maker of huggable urns and seeker of Oprah we reported on yesterday -- who asked one of my favorite questions, and one I think about often: "What is normal, anyway?"
Originally printed in The Sun Nov. 10, 2003, under the headline "That's All, Folks," it began this way:
When the Tasmanian Devil arrived, the first thing Laraine Harford did was carry him to the kitchen. She gingerly removed the cartoon character cookie jar from its box, pulled off his head and began carefully pouring tap water inside, one measuring cup at a time.
At 20 cups, she stopped. Big enough, she thought. She smiled with satisfaction. Her two-year quest was over. Harford poured the water out, let Taz air dry and put him back in his carton. She swathed that with bubble wrap, placed the bundle in a clear plastic bin filled with chunks of shipping foam and snapped the top firmly in place, sliding the bin under the table that holds her African violets.
There, she hopes it will stay, unused, for a good long time. For Taz - the relentless Looney Tunes character that consumed everything in his path - is no simple souvenir to Harford, no collectible to be sold at a profit later, no kitschy container in which to keep her cookies.
Taz is her final resting place.
Read the whole story here.
Comments
Well, I've tried to resist the urge to weigh in on dog cremains, but, alas, this blog keeps offering the opportunity....
When my much-loved sheltie died in 2004, I paid to have her cremated at the local humane society (source of revenue for the shelter). I figured that I would sprinkle Jenny's ashes at the park where we'd walked every day, and that one day would seem just right to do this. Well, it's three and a half years later, and the ashes are still in a metal container in a drawer in my living room. Perhaps this fall, my current dog Amie and I will finally set Jenny's ashes free at the park. Sometime, the ashes will be scattered. It's just taken longer for the right day to arrive than I thought it would
(Amie is staring at me as I write this.)
Two years ago, my friend Doug moved back to my city and he brought with him the ashes of his recently deceased dog AND the huge potted plant where, as an apartment dweller, he'd buried the ashes of an earlier dog. While he was staying at my house for a couple days, I was sure we were setting a record for most dog cremains in one dwelling.
Normal, shmormal. "Normal" people just don't seem that kind or smart or creative to me. I'd just as soon be around people who are exceptionally kind to creatures and other people. I don't know if the lady who wants to end up in a Taz cookie jar fits this category, but I respect her unusual wishes.
Posted by: Mary Schmidt | March 29, 2008 9:08 PM