Dear Morton Salt Umbrella Girl

Dear Morton Salt Umbrella Girl:

Please do not ever, ever leave. You were my best imaginary childhood friend. I always wondered where you were going with that umbrella in the rain, worried that you might ruin your pretty yellow dress, but I wanted to walk with you and also to let you know that you were spilling your salt–you might run out, please be careful.

Remember that time when I was eight and my parents left me and my sister at home by ourselves while they shopped in Tucson all day? We made a Wowie Chocolate Cake—from that page in the cookbook that was rather crusty from overuse because we made this recipe so often since it didn’t call for eggs and we were always out of eggs—just us and a pinch of you, and we ate the whole thing before they returned in case they’d be mad. You’re so fun.

People I haven’t seen in a long time tell me I haven’t changed a bit, but you? Wow, it’s like a miracle, you have not changed at all since 1968!! Mr. Morton could have easily morphed you into a hippie or punk rocker or glam girl over the years, but somehow you are still the same sweet umbrella girl and I declare that the best branding decision ever.

It’s been over 30 years since those memories of making cakes and all manner of other cooking adventures first sifted out, but…gosh, tonight as I made hamburgers and poured the finest ever seasoning straight out of that timeless blue canister, it’s like not a day has gone by.

You are the salt of the earth. An icon. A classic. Stylish and carefree, ah, that’s what I loved, so carefree. So what that it’s raining and I’m spilling my salt? It’s a happy day! Thank you, darling.

Love, Jenny (as all my childhood friends called me)