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Newspaper Columns >
They're Not Even Round!
What's With The Paper Plates?
by Carol Breidenbach
Farmland News
26 August 2003
Before fast food restaurants drive-thrus, a real family pleasure was the impromptu picnic. A long car ride could be broken up with a stop at a road side park. Sometimes the food was packed at home and others times picked up on the spur of the moment at a local market.
When I was young, we often traveled from Findlay, Ohio to my Grandpa & Grandma Carroll's home in North Creek, Ohio. It was customary to stop after church services at a local market to pick up picnic supplies. Our Mom usually brought lemonade from home in a thermos. This was "real lemonade" made from freshly squeezed lemons. Sometimes she added frozen orange juice concentrate to it for a special flavor. Nothing tasted so good as those bologna sandwiches eaten in the excited anticipation of seeing our Grandparents.
We always had a good time at my grandparents home. My grandfather was a retired one- room school teacher. He quizzed us about school and how we were doing. Stories from his teaching days kept us well entertained. My grandmother played bingo with us. She had pennies for prizes and usually a candy bar or some gum for the final cover all bingo winner. At their home we feasted on home made chicken noodle soup and corn bread. Most times there were also home made cookies.
When our children came along, my husband and I continued this tradition. A very memorable picnic happened when we were on the way home to Defiance, Ohio from my brother's home in Arlington, Ohio. Everybody was hungry so we stopped at a local market and picked up the makings of a picnic. Gilboa, Ohio has a park along the side of the road and we chose that as the stopping point. The children especially enjoyed this park because it was uncrowded and had really neat play equipment. Another great feature is the statue of a large steer. That fiber glass animal really fascinated them. They loved to stand under it and marvel that there was still a lot of space.
While the children played, my husband assembled sandwiches. Finally the children were summoned to eat. As Dad passed out sandwiches, our son, Chip inquired as to where the paper plates were. Oops! My husband tore the paper bag (This was also before: "Paper or plastic.") into four neat squares and passed them around. What kind of paper plates are these protested daughter, Angela. "They are the kind the pioneers had when they rode the wagon trains west" was his reply.
Our children never forgot that incident and every time we passed that park, they commented on how Dad made the pioneer paper plates there. Now that they are grown and have children of their own, they still tell the story of those paper plates. It is not only a story about pioneers but about Yankee ingenuity. Some of our best memories are about the simple things.
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