"When I was much younger, friend and I used to sell advertising on milk bottles," Peter begins. "Thought we going to be millionaires. We sold ads to Kellogg's and a few other businesses. Since the milk was delivered in bottles--glass bottles--it wasn't as simple as slapping on a sticker. There was a plant in Wellington that could embed the ads in the glass. The ads would last as long as the glass, so businesses loved the idea."
Jamie couldn't remember how they got onto the topic of milk bottles, but he was intrigued. In America, the process of home-delivered milk died long before Jamie was born. But many people in New Zealand--people much younger than Jamie--remember exchanging empties and looking forward to the brightly coloured bottle tops that arrived as Christmas neared. There are people in the North Island in their late teens who remember watching a man walk to the door carrying a crate of milk bottles--and they knew his name. The last glass-bottle milk delivery didn't happen in New Zealand until 1997.
Peter continues the story: how they could barely keep up with demand, how they were sure they'd sparked their careers, how it all worked so perfectly. And then it all died somewhat prematurely--stricken, as if by stroke or a cancer.
"The company that pressed the ads on the glass went bust." He took a drink from his beer. "They were the only ones who could; only ones in the country."
That was it. That was the end. The business that, so many years ago, appeared endless and bright shrunk to a singularity and finally disappeared.
"What a great time." Peter says suddenly, and Jamie is startled by his grin. Here was a life--a business, true, but a life nonetheless--that ended by way of unforeseen events, but Peter appeared to blame nobody. What was once endless and bright, although dimmed, still glowed, faintly, in his memory. And he could remember whenever he wanted. He could go back whenever he wanted. He could hold the glass in his hand whenever he wanted. It will always die, and it will never die.
1 comment:
You know, today I was eating some cheese (which as everyone knows, i don't do often. cheese is so binding)-- in a sandwich, with lettuce and mustard and mayo, and thought the world might be a bit better, a bit thinner and a hell of a lot less zitty without dairy. And then i thought of how inapropriate it would be to drink milk (meant to be a 'health drink') in the middle of a marathon, or after a rigorous round of lawn bowls. yeah... down with the... milk, man.
DOWN WITH THE MILK MAN!!
Post a Comment