The Zen of Marshmallows
"The thing's not even two feet long, " still another pointed out. "Wouldn't you fry your hand off roasting a marshmallow on it? What were they thinking?" And on it went.
An Ann Arbor News article helped generate the largest first-day crowd I'd witnessed in all my years of running the sale. The place was swarming, and, in my traditionally neurotic Buddhist way, I was running from thing to thing, lifting couches here, taking apart bed frames there, answering questions, and slapping "sold" tags on dressers and desks. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an elderly woman standing in the long line in front of the cashier, her arms filled with purchases. On top of the pile was the three-pronged, battery-operated, rotating marshmallow roaster.
I had to know. I grabbed a box for her finds and took it over to her. "So, you found the three-pronged, battery-operated, rotating marshmallow roaster, did ya?" I asked. Her face lit up. "Isn't it wonderful?" she said, putting her items into the box. "My kids out in California love camping! They are going to be sooooo happy!"
[Originally published in September, 2009.]