The PR Blog

The Bar of Soap

When I was a young girl, about 10 or so, I went on a school trip. It was a most exciting thing to contemplate – 10 days away from home and off to experience a life of independence, adulthood and a chance to spread my young wings.

Several days before our departure on this school excursion in to the wilds of the unknown. I was with my parents in a local supermarket, buying groceries and food for the fortnightly shop. ( as was the custom in those days when one lived in the place called “ the country”. )

Then, in that supermarket, I saw it: a bar of soap.

It was 1965 and was probably one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was a bar of Palmolive soap, in a wondrous box, festooned with images of beautiful women with silky smooth complexions.

I had to have that bar of soap.

I begged my parents to let me have it. I wanted it so badly. The box was so pretty and the smell so wonderful. But it was expensive.

My Mother said “ Yes “ My Father said “ No.”

I recollect the argument and my Mother said “ let her have it. “ It was a tense moment. Dad, with an indulgent smile, agreed.

The bar of soap went in to the trolley.

Then I said the worst thing I could possibly say.

I looked at my Father and said

“ haha I won! "

My mother put that bar of soap back on the shelf so fast that I barely caught my breath.

I went from hero to zero in two seconds flat because of my words.

I knew immediately that I had done wrong. What I could not have known was that I would still be remembering it more than 60 years later.

This was the first time I felt shame. 

I was angry and contrite and sad. But mostly, ashamed. 

I went on the school trip and when I unpacked my suitcase, I found the box of soap. It was the one I had wanted so badly.

My parents weren't actually fighting over whether I should have the soap.

They were dealing with how I received it.

Dad had bought it and slipped it into my suitcase.

I did not find this out until today when I asked Redhead about it.

Which brings me to the point of this article. 

Life is not about winning. It is not about being good or bad or right or wrong. It is about knowing that you did the right thing.

As a kid, I did the wrong thing. And my Dad loved me anyway. 

No matter which side of politics wraps the soap and packages it -  whether it comes dressed in pictures of beautiful women or horsemen from hell riding in with messages of doom – the box means nothing.

Perhaps before we put the next political bar of soap into our trolley, we should take it out of the box. Turn it over. Look at it properly. Read what is actually in it.

Have a wee think.

Because one day, we will have to open the suitcase.

It was only a bar of soap.But perhaps it wasn't.

Somewhere in that suitcase was a little girl's shame, a father's generosity and a lesson that took a lifetime to fully understand.

We discover that the most valuable thing wasn't the soap at all. It was the person who put it in the suitcase.