Straw Vote

   Yesterday I had the rare pleasure of dining out, at Brown's in Troy. Marilyn and I ordered sodas, initially, and the waiter, a congenial sort, plopped the glasses on the table in front of us. I asked if we could have straws, and he said yes, on request, and then he separately asked M. if she too wanted a straw. Has to ask now, he said. So he brought the straws.
   The straws were wrapped in paper, and of paper, and the diameter was very wide, almost twice as wide as a plastic straw would have been. Using it was somewhat akin to slurping a soda, not such a satisfactory experience. Dinner-wise, all else was superb, so no big deal.
   My mind slipped to my first memory of drinking straws. We kids were little and we were sick, most likely from one of the childhood diseases. We got them all---whooping cough, measles, mumps.   We were in the back seat of my father's car. He stopped at Cinelli's drug store, and my mother went in and came out with a bottle of ginger ale and a package of straws, the first time purchase of such a luxury for our household.The straws were red and of cellophane, loose in a box. I really liked the idea, felt so pampered.