Martin's Law of Falling Toast

Here is a blast from the past, written, in part, while I was in Oregon. At least the genisis of the original story finds its roots in Oregon. I've embellished some parts and added others, but the heart of the story remains unchanged.

I awoke to a down pour. The weather could only be explained as Babe, Paul Bunyan’s giant ox, peeing on a flat rock just outside my window. Wow, another Oregon summer day! I performed a breach birth from my blanket womb and padded off to the bathroom. After dressing, I wandered into the kitchen to fix breakfast. Visions of fried eggs, bacon and toast floated through my brain as I shuffled around the kitchen gathering utensils, food and a final resting place for the finished product.

I fished the toaster out of the cupboard, added a new layer of electrician tape to the splice in the cord, and plugged it in. As was my custom, I jumped back in case the cord threw sparks again. No light show this time. I threw in the last piece of bread that wasn’t growing something, pushed down the knob, grabbed a nice heavy book to prop against the knob since it wouldn’t stay down anymore, and started singing Jaded Lover - a Jerry Jeff Walker song - which was just the right amount of time for a perfect piece of toast. As soon as I finished the song, the toast was ready. Who needs modern technology?

Big finish.......tag the last line and, voila, toast! I removed the book, pulled the knob up and pulled the toast out of the toaster. I spread on some butter then some of Smucker’s best grape jam, and turned to place the freshly spread toast on the plate. But, as I turned, the toast jumped from my hand. Yes, jumped. It is the only explanation. It was a desperate act, unplanned I’m sure, but well executed and with perfect timing. The toast fell to the vinyl, landing, as you would expect, gooey side down. I stood there, staring at the fallen toast between my feet, wondering what could have gotten into that piece of toast. Why would it want to end things like that? So sad and senseless. Plus, why did it have to land slick side to the floor? Had it landed the other way, the five second rule would have come into play and I could have rescued it and all would have ended well. But, noooooooo, it had to land slimy side down, negating the five second rule and invoking the, Trash It, Pal, you lose, rule. And that I did, trash it, I mean. But, it got me to thinking. Why does the stupid toast always fall jam side down? Days and weeks later, after extensive research at the local library (before the internet), I had the answer.

But, before I go into the physics of falling toast, let me add some of the history I uncovered while researching this phenomenon. I’m sure there are many, like me, who have wondered where jam came from. Who was the first to discover it? And why? Well, I found the answers to these two worrisome questions. The story:

The beginning began at the beginning, .........of time, I mean. At the dawn of recorded time - The Stone Age. Perhaps a quick treatise on Ages is in order here. As you know, first, there was the Stone Age, where all the men would go off on extended business trips to bring back the bacon, so to speak, well actually, that is exactly what they did. The women, who weren’t real happy about their husbands leaving them home alone and going off and doing, who knew what and certainly getting into as much trouble as possible, had to stay home and gather roots and berries, twigs and leaves to make up the stew for the meat the men would drag home. The women weren’t happy about the gathering thing either, and they let the men know how unhappy they were as soon as they returned from their business trips. This complaining and nagging resulted in a shift of ages, sliding everyone into the Agricultural Age. In the Agricultural Age, the men stayed home and, through animal husbandry, raised the animals instead of going off on extended trips to hunt and kill them. In addition, the men also tilled the ground, sowed and harvested crops of vegetables, tended orchards of fruits and generally kept busy all day. The women were happy with this arrangement, so the nagging slowed to a crawl.

Now, there was a brief period before the Ag Age where we found the Bronze Age. But other than something to do with baby shoes, there isn’t much known about that age.

The Agriculture Age lasted for many centuries until the time the women were tired of having to live on the farm and, due to lack of funds, not being able to go to town and shop like they would like, and that they knew was their birth rite. The nagging and complaining rose to new heights. So, the dawn of the Industrial Age was upon man. Everyone moved to the cities where there were jobs and stress and mortgages and stores and more stores and plenty of things to buy. The women were happy once again. At least, until men started going off on extended business trips and it started all over again with the nagging and complaining.

Sometime around the mid sixties, we had the Age of Aquarius, but there wasn’t much money in that age, and it quickly faded. But, I have digressed from the original story, the beginning of jam. As I mentioned, it was in the Stone Age we find the genesis of jam.

Mulut, son of Numbutt, was a middle aged man living, in what is now thought to be Ohio, at the dawn of civilization. Mulut, though he was only twenty two, was indeed middle aged for that time. Men didn’t live long then, due to the dangers of their extended business trips. The men would often band together for safety as they ventured forth to hunt their favorite prey - the mighty mastodon, the hairy elephant. On the occasion that is credited for the creation of jam, Mulut was out hunting alone. He was spirited out of his warm cave by his wife, who was tired of left overs and wanted something freshly killed to eat. Unfortunately for Mulut, there wasn’t a planned business trip on the calender, so he found himself hunting alone.

Mulut’s wife threw him a new berry bag as he stepped out of the cave door. He was ordered to pick up some berries while he was out. The freshly made berry bag was similar to all the berry bags of the tribe - made from the mammary of a female mastodon. These were just the right size, not too big, not too small. A leather draw string kept the bag shut and the berries in. Mulut was set for his trip.

Mulut’s luck was running strong and he fell into a large patch of berries a few miles from his cave. He filled the berry sack to capacity in a few short minutes. He was quite happy with himself and knew his wife would be happy as well. Mulut’s euphoria was short lived. His preoccupation with his good fortune in the berry patch fogged his small but agile brain and he let his guard down for just a minute. A minute too long, as it turned out.

A large, male mastodon, attracted to the scent of the berry bag Mulut was carrying and filling with berries, had lumbered up to within charging distance of Mulut. Before Mulut knew it, the male mastodon, smack dab in the middle of his annual rut - mating season, enamored by, what he thought was a female mastodon, was charging toward the object of his affection. Unfortunately for Mulut, that object happened to be him and his mammary berry bag!

Mulut was rudely shaken out of his euphoria by the sounds of the aroused mastodon rumbling toward him. Mulut took off running at his top speed, which, as you may imagine, wasn’t near the speed of an enamored mastodon. Mulut was losing ground at a rapid rate. He reluctantly jettisoned the heavy berry bag in an attempt to gain some much needed speed. The mastodon, fixed on Mulut, didn’t see the berry bag, which was actually what should have been his focus. The big, hairy beast stepped squarely on the bag, smashing it and its contents. Mulut, finding a small cave in a little patch of trees, dove in and hid from the mastodon, saving himself from a fate worse than death. The frustrated mastodon snorted and stamped and rooted around, looking for Mulut, hoping that he wasn’t going to go home alone. But, finally, the mastodon gave up and headed off to a bar down the street named Hairy's.

After the mastodon had left, Mulut came out and looked for his berry bag. When he found it he looked inside and saw that the berries were all smashed. His head slumped as he imagined what his wife would say when she saw the gooey mess. But, he knew he had to take the whole mess back. On the trip back, he concocted a story that he could tell his wife. Upon arriving home, he explained how he had decide to smash the berries so they could be spread on a piece of bread, that way making it easier on his wife when she prepared dinner. She bought it and jam was invented.

And now, the Law. Martins Law of Falling Toast states: An object, coated on one side with some type of gooey substance, will land sticky side down due to the added gravitational attraction of the gooey substance. This attraction is directly proportional to the amount of sticky goo applied to the object, and inversely proportional to the available supply of objects.

Well, I hope this little story will enlarge you appreciation for jam and what went into its creation. The next time you drop something with a side slathered in something gooey and sticky, and it lands slick side down, you’ll then remember this small article and will know why things ended as they did. Any thanks can be expressed in twenties or hundreds.