My Cuisinart finally gave up.  (When I first got my food processor, they didn’t make mixers and toasters and other things.)

After many years of service, a little electrical tape around one spot of exposed cord, countless hand washings of the blade, and months of pulse only operation, I recognized it was time to put her down.

I got my Cuisinart food processor, like many, as a wedding present.  It was the early 80s.  It was after the fondue pot craze and before counter-sized cappuccino machines became the rage.

Needless to say, this go-to kitchen device lasted about 10 times longer than my marriage.  (Not sure what the lesson is in that. Always ask for a warranty?)

So, I finally trekked to B3 (Bed, Bath & Beyond) with the half dozen coupons I’ve received in the mail since Christmas.

A 9-cup model was on sale, although not on the floor. They offered to ship one  – no charge – to my home, estimating delivery to be about a week.  Perfect.

True enough, the box was delivered as promised.

I ripped open the outer packaging. The branded box fit exactly into the labeled, and well-taped, brown corrugated shell.  (Obviously, the B3 shipping department, having to pay UPS based on circumference, had a lot of experience with this.)

As I pulled a molded cardboard tray out, I had to marvel at the attention given to the packaging.

The molded cardboard seemed especially cushiony, like oatmeal paper on steroids.  Spaces were notched out to hold the separate components; the base which housed the motor, the plastic cylinder, and the cover that has to lock in place before the motor can engage.  The blade was wrapped in a heavy-duty plastic skin and nestled carefully inside the main vessel.

Any component that could be scratched or marred, wore a plastic bag, which was printed with a warning not to place it over anyone’s head.  This cautionary instruction is so obvious, I found myself laughing. I can’t imagine it being necessary.  Still, I’m glad someone takes the time and care to include it.

Safety in all things, right?

The last Monday of January has become a small day of celebration to anyone who sends or receives things.  It’s Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day.  I was surprised when I first found out about the observance.

I recognize that using bubble wrap has gone into disfavor for ecological reasons.  For years, it delighted me when I would receive a package and get to pop the bubbles after all the parts were removed from the box.  Or better yet, I loved to lay sheets of bubble wrap on the floor and run over it with the casters of my desk chair.

Pop-pop-pop.

There was a childish glee I experienced when unrolling sheets of bubble wrap,  but there is another aspect to appreciating protective packaging.

As a culture, we value things that are new.  Whether a new toy or electronic device purchased on Amazon,  packaged in layers of bubble wrap and Styrofoam peanuts, or a new car, transported cross-country on specially designed trucks, or the ultimate example of newness – a baby.

A new being, before birth, travels for months encapsulated in amniotic fluid in its own membrane.

Safe. Valued. Cherished.

I can consider my car. I will travel for months with dry cleaner receipts tucked away in the visor and fast food napkins on the floor mat.  I can consider my clothes or dishes.  As I own them longer, I expect them to get stains or cracks.  I give less and less care to their use.

And new relationships….

When something is NEW, I tend to treat it with more reverence. I don’t think I’m alone here.

I suppose all things degrade over time, but there’s a special honeymoon period when something is new.  I think new things are treated with extra care.

I looked at the well-designed packaging for my new food processor.  I am grateful for the quality of molded cardboard and the extra plastic bags.  I wish all things had good protection in their journeys – over their lifetimes.

For me, as I go through my life, protection might involve a community of friends or like-minded people to spend time with, or maybe a guaranteed income or basic healthcare.

We all need some level of protection.

Treating everything like it’s new, like everything is worthy of safe passage, is no small thing.