I remember watching golden broth balls dissolve into water while making Mrs. Grass noodle soup with my grandma years ago and her telling me what a source of entertainment this was for her back when kids TV shows were only on at certain hours on certain days. I laughed when she told me that she used to have the neighborhood kids over to watch the ball dissolve with her.
My grandma has adapted well to technology. She is one of the few people that I can send either a hand written letter to or a text message and expect to receive a well thought out reply shortly. She has other games to play now, and I had thought with the advent of the squirrels building tree houses app that she is obsessed with, she would let go of her past entertainment of watching the golden ball melt. I realized my error when she sent me the following text:
Finally, I acknowledge the death of a life long pleasure. As a child of depression-raised children, we often experienced the Mrs. Grasses noodle soup experience. Pennies and a few extra noodles and dinner was served. It also provided our childhood Saturday night entertainment. Taking turns was a given. The coveted prize was being the "one" who got to put the golden egg in the boiling water. We all gathered and watched the egg magically dissolve into the water. Oh the thrill. Mrs Grasses has continued as a mainstay of late night dinners. We all have those times when we come home and just do not have the energy to cook, or even defrost, dinner. And then we can turn to Mrs Grasses and all is well. Obviously, the magic of the golden egg has disappeared. We still steal a glance to see if it is disappearing, and turn away with a nostalgic smile. There is still memory magic there. Last week I shook the little box in search of my golden egg. No egg found. A terrible mistake, but life goes on. This week. No egg. The terrible dawning that the age of the golden egg has passed. Dispassionately disposed of by the latest of the large corporations acquisitions of our little Mrs. Grass. After all, what's the big deal about a little egg.
Clearly, we all have nostalgia for our childhood games. Even I was a little sad to learn that my favorite soup had changed. This experience has made me wonder if 50 years from now I'll be desperately searching for a skip-it and a snap bracelet.
