The Chip Bowl

Every Christmas, we'd gather around it and eat greasy Lay's potato chips and homemade french onion dip. Actually, she'd make it with Lipton french onion soup mix, and she'd blend it with sour cream--I was a bit disillusioned after finding out how "easy" it was to make. When I was smaller, I thought the chip bowl was actually some sort of punch bowl, since the red on the bottom looked like Kool-Aid or something. When I found out it was just some sort of finish on the bowl itself, I thought it was the neatest thing. The chip bowl would sit on the table in the kitchen, away from the crowds of the rest of the family, who were mostly gathered in Nana's cramped living room, laughing at the antics of little kids, gossiping, and noshing on finger sandwiches.

My cousins, my sister, and I would stand around the chip bowl and go to town on it. We'd all make fun of it and say it looked like something from "The Wonder Years." Because I have always been (and will always be) a world-class comedian, I'd throw in "do you mean the 'Under Wears?'" This caused no one to laugh. There was always a fresh bag of Lay's to pour into the vintage 60's snack-piece. We'd talk about what we were getting for Christmas that year. My cousin Leah would always ask me if I had a girlfriend yet, and I always had to say no (I'm a good storyteller, but not THAT good). My hands would get greasy, and I'd most likely wipe them on my pants, in a moment of nervousness.

Some people want rings, necklaces, and watches from loved ones who have passed on. Some want broaches, couches, and recliners. I wanted this chip bowl--its something I have always loved for some odd reason. Its strange looking. Its from another era. It has a detachable mini-bowl for spreads and salsas. It reminds me of my grandmother. And french onion dip on Christmas.

I found myself in a state of panic a couple of days ago. When the call came that Nana was dying, I for some reason thought of the chip bowl and how, soon enough, thats all I would have of her. Where the heck was it? I remembered vividly that my mom DID pack it in a box for me; we were down in Connecticut at Kristin's, and it was put in a box with some sheets, and a lamp my mom was giving us from her den. But I, for the life of me, could not remember where I put the darn thing. I am SO ORGANIZED. It drives everyone, including me, crazy. I have a system of where we put things, and all extra, "indoor entertaining" (outdoor entertaining goes in the cabinet above the refrigerator) things go down in the basement storage closet. It wasn't there.

My system had failed me. It was in the regular kitchen cabinet, right inside the wooden salad bowl, up above on the shelf. Sometimes life is like that--we put some things so far back into the recesses of our mind that we lose all recollection of them happening. Then, when we least expect needing them, we search desperately . . .frantically. We search in fear that something we always thought we had so safely in our grasp and in our reach may be lost to us now forever.

And what's funny is how we usually find these things in the most obvious of places.

Rest in peace Nana Courtney