Soda Cans and Red Platters | October 2001 Lighter Side of Life

LSOL: Soda Cans and Red Platters

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Cautionary tales on planning ahead and protecting ourselves.

Ed W. Ramsell II, CLU

Grandsons are wonderful inventions, especially mine. I'm sure yours is too. My grandson's name is Alex and he is now 13 years old. Hold that thought.

Everyone has a personal style of managing empty soda cans. I fully support the nickel deposit-and-recycling method but I find the act of physically managing empty soda cans a nuisance. Mostly through expediency, I simply accumulate cans in their original 12-pack cartons and stack them in the corner of the kitchen until they get to be a bother and there is enough to bother with.

When Alex discovered money-at about age three-the stack of cartons became a wonderful analog to an instructional opportunity on the joys of American consumerism: Get money, go to store, buy soda, drink soda, save cans, count cans, take cans back to store, get money, count money and buy more soda. The obvious slippage in that equation was Grandpa's responsibility.

Now, a large paper grocery bag holds exactly three 12 packs. It's light enough for little guys to tote, so Alex became the official can toter. Once, while dashing through a downpour of rain, his wet bag broke and spilled, rattling soda cans over the grocery store parking lot. We scrambled to pick up the cans, got soaked, had a good laugh and learned a lesson: Tape boxes with cans tightly.

Weeks later, carrying several bags down a flight of stairs, my bag ripped open and the cartons tumbled down the stairs, bumpity-bump. Not "Rattle, clang, clatter," only bumpity bump, in whole 12-pack quantities. The tape held and the cans behaved! Alex was impressed. "Well," I said smugly, "That's why I tape the boxes." Hold that thought.

Fast forward about a decade.

Successful grand-parenting is largely defensive and pre-emptive. To wit, to protect my living room carpet from pizza and spilled soda, I bought a set of large red plastic platters with high rims, similar to the trays restaurants use.

These platters are required for kids when eating in the living room. This is Grandpa's immutable "Red Platter Rule."

Early on, Alex acquiesced to the Red Platter Rule most of the time. But the inevitable day came. He ostentatiously but good-naturedly ignored the Red Platter Rule and the narrow-minded adult totalitarian oppression of his personal lebensraum. I called him on it.

"Aww, Grandpa! That's for kids!" he objected. "I won't get pizza on the carpet!"

"I know you won't get pizza on the carpet," I replied with incontrovertible logic, "because I'll throw your pizza in the garbage first." Subtlety wasn't appropriate here.

Grandpa prevailed of course. Good grand-parenting also involves an occasional I'm-bigger-than-you booster shot. Good-natured yet narrow-minded, adult totalitarian oppression does have its place, of course. Alex grudgingly put his pizza and soda on a red platter.

Within minutes, he knocked over the full can of soda. The platter performed splendidly, containing the slosh harmlessly.

I didn't say a word. Alex didn't either. He cleaned up the spill, popped another cola and I haven't had a red platter problem since. Hold that thought too.

Worrying about the future

Last week, over a latte at Barnes & Noble, we were discussing some worldly things like getting a job and a car, Timothy McVeigh, going to college and girls, and Shakespeare (really!). We got around to talking about how all of this was kind of scary, how you know how to do it all, what can go wrong and how you make sure you're doing it right and more. This is the kind of stuff all of us are still working on. It was clear he had spent some time sorting things out, which I was very glad to see.

"Sometimes I worry about the future," Alex said. "Like, I just don't want to mess up and wind up like '"

"I know. Everyone has the same problem. At least I still do." Although I know I was on the cusp of preachiness, I nevertheless continued. "Sometimes things just go wrong, like flat tires and earthquakes. And sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we just do dumb things."

"Yeah. Like that time when I scratched my brand new watch!"

"Right. Things go wrong but you can learn from your experience.

"Do they make kid insurance?"

"Yep. It's called Grandpa. But you'll be OK. Think ahead a little and take a little extra time and effort to protect yourself from yourself."

"Oh, you mean like we do for soda cans and red platters?

It took me a second to review the last 10 years and make the connection.

"Yeah. Exactly like we do for soda cans and red platters."

Ed Ramsell heads Willmark Benefit consultants in Des Moines, Iowa. His address 366 Grand Ave., Station 36, Des Moines, IA 50309, or ramsellew@ft.newyorklife.com.

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