 My first beads were pop beads, a
1950’s fad. I coveted them and competed with my girlfriends for the
longest strands, draping myself in ropes of them. My favorites were
pearls and I hated it when I realized that they weren’t pearls through
and through One day the cheesy paint peeled off to reveal a bead
no more lustrous than skim milk. Disillusionment. How could I have been so stupid, my 8-year-old
self pondered. |