Dear Fels Naptha,
Last night, we went out to dinner with J.C.'s parents at a local cafeteria. You know the place - the one with cubes of jello, country style steak, fried okra, and lemon meringue pie. Every town has one, right? Like all cafeterias, this one insists on serving strawberries drenched in a bright, nearly flourscent red goo. I've never understood the need for the goo since strawberries are such a lovely shade of red on their own, but the goo seems to be a staple at cafeterias everywhere. Addie was wearing a beautiful white smocked dress that my mother made. She looked like a little angel. You know where this is going, right? A strawberry dropped, and suddenly there were splotches of red goo all down her dress. My mother-in-law audibly gasped and cried out, "OHHH!! The DRESS! That beautiful white dress that your mother made! That red will never come out!" I looked at the stains, knew they would be a challenge, but I stayed calm. When I see your old fashioned waxy soap bar label next to the glossy brightly colored bottles of Shout and Spray n' Wash on the laundry aisle, I know you are overlooked and misunderstood. You look so homely and plain. I am pretty sure your label and packaging haven't changed since the 1890's when you were first developed. That is part of your charm though. You've taken stains out of generations of clothes. You are loyal and trustworthy, like an old friend. Although you sit on my laundry room shelf next to the modern and snazzy Shout Gel, Shout Color-Catchers, and Oxi-clean, you know you are the one I love, the one I depend on when the going gets tough.
I came home to you, my trusty bar of Fels Naptha, and got to work. You dissolved that strawberry goo as if you knew the importance of an heirloom smocked dress. Perhaps that is your trick. Over the years, you have come to understand that some clothes are more than just the shirts on our backs. After getting out stains through generations of spit-up-upon baptismal gowns, red-wine-streaked wedding gowns, and chocolate-egg-stained Easter dresses, you just get it.
After hanging up Addie's beautiful stain-free white dress to dry and putting her to bed, I went off to bed. I was awoken about 3 a.m. to Addie calling for me. I walked in her room, and she said, "Mommy, I need to blow my nose." Given that her entire face was covered in blood, blood was running down her nose, into her mouth, and down her chin, I was pretty sure she needed more than a tissue. I took her into the bathroom, cleaned her up, and stuck tissues up her nose to deal with the nosebleed. Then I went back into her room to inspect the carnage in her bed. I don't know how long this nosebleed had been going on, but there was blood at both the head and the foot of the bed, all over the pillowcase, sheets, a blanket, and the comforter. It looked more like a crime scene than a nosebleed.
I was out of Peroxide, my usual blood stain fighter of choice, but Fels Naptha, I knew you wouldn't let me down. I scrubbed your golden bar all over the sheets and blankets before throwing them in the wash. Then, because we don't have one of those fancy-schmancy high-efficiency washers that has a capacity of 80,000 towels, I was stuck washing the comforter stains out by hand in the bathtub. You worked with me though. You knew I was anxious to get back to bed, and it showed. After a few minutes of scrubbing, we were done.
So, Fels Naptha, while I know you are unequivocally the underdog on the laundry aisle, I want you to know you work magic here at the House of Estrogen, and it is very much appreciated.
Lovingly yours,
Ann
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