Show Your Jugs

Jugs. It amazes me how one 4-letter word conjures up a thousand emotions. Is it vulgar slang for a woman's breasts? A synonym for prison? For me, my jugs are a tribute to my mom whose breasts betrayed her by welcoming an enemy into the safe harbor of her bosom and swept her away in the swift current of cancer.

Losing Mom at 20 meant she never saw me marry. She never met her Grandson. She would never know how dumb a smartphone can be. She died in August and by October, I had landed a job as a radio announcer through an on-air contest. "You have a nice voice, would you like a job?" Yeah - I would.

Thirty years later, I stood in front of that board, mic in front sharing a hot July forecast. I had a crazy idea of creating a non-toxic paint that was mined, manufactured and made in Vermont. I tested Good Vibes Blue on a plastic jug and brought it into the studio with me. The paint had cured overnight, so I tapped the jug on the side of the console to test it.

"Show your jugs, Baby..." I tapped more - it didn't scratch. Show your jugs... I snickered and thought, hey, that's an awesome domain name... I bummed $20 off our morning jock, told him my idea and he was happy to throw $20 to support my jugs.

A Wonderful Awful Day...

And so it began... by September, I booked a 10x10 space at our 1st Vintage Bazaar. I created a logo, bought $100 worth of jugs and brought our colors to see what would happen. I was euphoric! I rode down with a friend from Vermont to Massachusetts and eagerly setup a pink striped tent, our "Show Your Jugs" banner and went to her parents' beach house to rest up for opening day.

We awoke to a crystal blue sky and the possibility of sales. It was a paint a jug for $10 with a portion going to the local cancer patient support group. Hundreds of people lined the gates and just as they opened, my phone rang. It was my son. We had lost Papa - his grandfather, to cancer. It was the start of a wonderful awful day. I couldn't tear down the booth because the crush of people made it impossible to leave. I had no way to go back home until Sunday. So I stayed, cried in the back, wiped my tears and greeted the throngs. My puffy eyed appearance drove away more traffic than it invited in, however, one girl of about 9 entered the tent. Her mother paid and her daughters started painting.

"Thank you for doing this. I lost my mother to breast cancer."

"I'm so sorry. I lost mine, too." I wrung my hands and blurted out "I just learned that my father-in-law passed away a half-hour ago." She was non-plussed and her daughters continued painting. The quiet 9-year old finished her jug in Vintage Rose. She handed it to me, "I made it for you. Don't cry, it's gonna be ok." A friend snapped a picture that after the show, I noticed a rainbow streaking across the left corner. I'd like to think it was Papa saying, yeah, it's gonna be ok.

Later in the day, a woman picked up the sage green jug I had painted and said "I'll have a jug of this color." So I started painting a jug and she chuckled, "No, I want the paint IN the jug, not ON it. Isn't that how you sell it?" Whoa - this was a game changer.

From that day forward, Vermont Chalky Paint is now housed in jugs that we re-purpose into the jug lamps during our Show Your Jugs Paint 'n Sip parties. A portion of proceeds goes to local charities in the communities we serve. We use our Decoupage formula and bits of napkin and the lampshade cut out with our ever-present orange-handled scissors. Our Show Your Jugs parties give attendees a fun place to create something beautiful to take home and light up their life or the life of someone they love.

Show Your Jugs - Isn't that Sexist?

I had an opportunity to setup our Show Your Jugs show at a mall in New York - provided I changed the name.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well... isn't 'Show Your Jugs' sexist?"

"Our plastic jugs come in all sexes - male and female included, because like cancer, Show Your Jugs doesn't discriminate."

We set up Show Your Jugs in malls, fairs, vintage bazaars and finally have our very own store in the heart of Essex Junction, Vermont where we host private parties with either coffee or cocktails.

A Rose by Any Other Name...

Jugs. I suppose like other 4-letter words, you can choose how it strikes you either- funny? Or offensively. Lovingly? Or shockingly... I'm proud of Show Your Jugs, the stories I've heard, the kindness I've witnessed and the tears of shocked surprise when I create a lampshade of a long-lost loved one or a beloved pet. It amazes me how one cut into a piece of paper, and a little decoupaged napkin onto a jug can move someone. It's such a simple, whimsical gesture. Each class starts with nerves, a little trepidation and I love when my students surprise themselves with something beautiful they can treasure.

As I reach and pass the age my mother was when she left us, I'm humbled that I'm able to leave a legacy behind that has touched so many. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of her - wonder what she would've thought about all of this and yet? Maybe none of this would've come to pass had she lived...

My sneaking suspicion is she's watching her daughter from afar, raising a glass and with that sideways grin, she's saying, "Show Your Jugs, Baby..."