If napkins were our currency,

it would be awesome.

The only downside would be the lack of wallet space.

And telephone slots might get tricky.

But birthday cards from Grandma would be fun.

Holiday gifts to cleaning ladies would be simple.

I’d make it rain on this bitch every day.

And toilet paper would be insanely valuable.

I was walking down a long city street lined with manholes and bus stops and had nothing better to do.  So I began thinking about weather records.  How do weather people react to the breaking of weather records?  Do they throw parties with cupcakes and trophies?  Or do they cry and wipe their tears with their hair because the record that was broken was their favorite meteorological record of all time?

It didn’t matter, there was a bum in a navy blue winter coat throwing bread at the passing traffic.  And that was much more interesting than weather parties.  Terrified of being hit by a slice of bread, I took extra caution as I passed him.  Smiling faintly and eyeing him the whole time.  It didn’t matter.  He didn’t acknowledge me.  I’m not even sure he knew I was there.

I continued to walk, passing manhole after manhole until I came to the front door of the Antiquarian Bookstore.  It looked like hell from the outside and had a bad rendition of a good rendition of Shakespeare above the door.

A bell jingled as I walked in to the musty and dusty store.  A polite-looking woman in her 90s was smiling and standing behind the counter.

I walked passed the counter towards the big sofa in the back.  On my way to the comfy cushions I grabbed Up the down staircase, a novel by Bel Kaufman.  I sat down and thumbed through the pages.  The story was about a schoolteacher in a metropolitan high school.  It looked interesting enough and I got excited.  Maybe it would be funny or talk about weather records.

I began reading.  The book starts on page 13, which I like because it makes me feel like I have a head start.  I read for a little while, despite the old woman at the front counter.  She had yet to move, which made things a little awkward.  But I kept reading anyway.

When I flipped from page 47 to 48, I found an old napkin stuck in the spine.  The napkin was folded tight, having been pressed flat throughout the years.

I reached for the napkin, but hesitated, not wanting to interrupt any predetermined, secret rendezvous.  But I unfolded it anyway because anyone who would be rendezvousing was sure to be long gone by now.

The napkin was crispy and thin and it crackled a little as I unfolded it.  The message that was written on the napkin said, “On a record breaking day in July, we will find the truth.”

Puzzled, I reread the napkin, then looked up to think.  There she was.  The 90 year old lady who hadn’t moved since I entered the store was standing before me with a ripe, green pear in one hand and a white linen napkin in the other.

Think for a moment if for once, napkins were celebrated for their functionality and given the proper medium for which they have long been deserved. Shown below is a visual appreciation for the lap aids using freshly chewed ingredients, fully worthy of gestation, amplified and given to the napkin as a means to show its function and form. An homage to our social and aesthetic shields.

They just let you eat.

Think about that for a second.

They never tried to get you to wipe your face, and you were happier because of it. They essentially just strapped you in and let you take yourself on a culinary voyage. Granted the meal may not have been gourmet, Vienna sausages and pureed vegetables, you enjoyed every second of it.

Then why do we use napkins as adults?  We use them because we have been trained, conditioned, and reinforced to beleive that there is a right way to eat.  We have been programmed to think about ‘how‘ we eat instead of ‘why.’  You can’t enjoy your food because there are too many things to think about.  People don’t even like to eat in front of each other anymore, afraid they may be being watched. The fear of being judged for the way you are consuming food is constantly hanging in the air.

Napkins are SUCKING THE JOY OUT OF EATING!

Well, not napkins themselves, but everything they represent.  You get the idea.  I’m trying to be dramatic.

This is why I’m proposing that we forget about Napkins.  That we forget about which fork goes on the inside and which goes on the outside.  That we eat because it tastes good.  That we start to enjoy our food again.  I’m proposing that we return to the bib.

Think about every picture you ever seen of a child eating with a bib on. Can you think of one where that child looks unhappy?  Now think about the people you saw last time you ate at a restaurant.  Did you see any faces that looked this happy? Probably not.  But I bet you saw a whole lot of napkins… I bet you probably even used one, didn’t you?

Maybe this is an attack against something bigger.  Maybe I’m attacking social mores as a whole.  Maybe this is one of those speeches about “not caring what other people think”, but I don’t think so.  I think this is about realizing that we are living in a time where food tastes better than any other point in history and appreciating that privilege.  Seriously.  At no point in time has food been so abundant or delicious than now.

The transition back to bibs isn’t going to be easy.  But the next time you sit down to eat a delicious meal consider how much better it would be if all you were thinking about was eating the food in front of you and nothing else.  Not whether its going to get on your clothes or your face or hands, just the tasty morsels in front of you.

When you’re ready, why not try on a bib, see how it feels.  It’s going to feel good.  You might feel like you are doing something wrong, but ask yourself why it’s wrong if it feels soooo right.