I Miss My Krazy Straw

We had an Acme market in our downtown when I was growing up. On the aisle right next to the tiny floral section, among some canned goods, they would hang the object of a childhood obsession, the Krazy Straw. My sisters had both had them at an early age, but by the time I rolled into town, they were badly warped from too much time in the dishwasher. So I wanted one of my very own.

My memory was that they were not very expensive, but for some reason, whenever we were food shopping, I could never hit the right pitch to convince my Mother to buy me one. So this was on me. I started saving up my coins and when I told my mother what I intended to spend the money in my Six Flags Great Adventure bank on, she softened her anti-Krazy Straw stance and told me to use my money for something else. The very next day, when my sister returned from the supermarket with some milk and cigarettes, she also had a Krazy Straw.

I was over the moon. I used it first in the milk my sister bought and then in every beverage I could find for years afterwards. Of course, with straw Kraziness came straw responsibility. My sisters had ruined theirs by putting them into the dishwasher. This would never happen to mine and I began a long campaign of hand-washing it after every use.

How long did Krazy Straw last? When I went to Mother’s house a few years ago and she asked me to help straighten one of the drawers in the kitchen that had come off its tracks, I opened it up and there was Krazy Straw. I took it with me after that, cleaned it again and drank with it for the first time in a many years. Recently I moved across the country and somehow Krazy Straw got lost in the shuffle. I am hoping that it is in some mislabeled box or drawer and that I will find it again and our relationship will continue. If I somehow misplaced Krazy Straw, I hope he fell into the hands of someone who can appreciate it as much as I did as a kid.

If you are out there Krazy Straw, and you are reading this, know I miss you and that if you can find your way home, I have a tall cold glass of milk waiting for you.


The Retroist

Editor/Podcaster at Retroist
The Retroist is like a BBQ on a bun without the bones. You're only human daddy. Chomp!

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