The Willow Glen Resident

Point of View

Deborah Taylor-Hollis

Are Longaberger collectors basket cases?

Are you still looking for that truly unique gift, that one-of-a-kind item that will bring joy and peace?

Well, every year, I am invited to craft-item parties, the best of which is for the Longaberger baskets.

Although sold like Tupperware, these are so exclusive that the hostess does not get anything free for hosting the party, only the opportunity, depending on her level of sales, to purchase special hostess-only items at full price.

The baskets are handcrafted, signed by the original maker. They range in size from tiny toothpick receptacles right up to the extra-large Jim Jones-size picnic baskets. I believe they even make a basket to store your bed--when not in use, of course. They make baskets for cookies, candy, square beds, round beds and toilet paper--a different basket for each brand of toilet paper, I think. After reading about them and receiving a couple as gifts, I decided to tell you the "real" story as to why these cute home accessories share a market retail price with Monet watercolors:

Each year, the Lustabasket family trustee travels to a remote mountain where the lone Lustabasket tree grows high above civilization on nationally secured land that protects this special one-of-a-kind evergreen. After consulting with three internationally known arborists, the annual pruning begins. Specially trained trimmers shave off just enough of the tender branches to produce the exquisite handmade treasures. After selected pruning, each piece of wood is packed in its own cotton-lined case for shipment to South America. There the timber is gently laid out on special aging planks, where it dries out in the warm sun. Indigenous Indian maidens turn the precious slats by the hour.

After drying, the branches are shipped back in their individually assigned crates and brought to a remote village in the Appalachian Mountains. There, children specially bred by the Lustabasket trust to strip the bark from the branches with their small, delicate fingernails without removing any of the highly prized wood begin the fragile process.

The now nude branches are returned to the trust and sent to Karl Swimfinger, last of a dying breed of Mentalists, who "dreams of the wood" until he can determine the exact shapes of the thousands of baskets to be made that season.

Working with a special Cray Supercomputer, he enters an array of numerical calculations to determine the number of strips that must be cut and their lengths (they are always a quarter of an inch thick, the traditional Lustabasket weave). Karl personally trims each piece with a specially designed Swiss army knife. Thousands of strips are needed, and Karl, the only man left who can complete this exacting work, is a perfectionist.

After carving them, Karl immerses the strips in a sealant vat for a short soak and sends them back to dry out in the warm Pampas sun.

The wood heads back to Lustabasket farms, where the weavers begin. A slow melodic chant accompanies their daily work as the baskets grow and form. Upon completion, each weaver signs the bottom in his own blood.

After matching up orders with the baskets, workers insert special plastic liners, made with stealth-ray technology for a perfect fit. Baskets that require decorator liners are sent to the mills, where the material--different each year and woven under the tightest security--is cut and hand-sewn into the basket, forming the most perfect union of tree and cotton ever beheld. Then, the shipping day arrives. Thousands line the streets to watch as each basket and its assigned handler head to the airport where, as with Faberge eggs, each man has two first-class seats, one for himself and one for the basket.

The two fly directly to your hometown, where after clearing strenuous security checks, the Lustabasket representative delivers the delicate masterpiece to a Lustabasket agent. To assure no one has tampered with your order, your agent will deliver your basket to your door, along with its registration papers and a copy of the order form, reminding you that it is a federal crime to abuse your endangered Lustabasket in any way, including verbal assaults when alone with it.

True collectors of the unique and individual will appreciate special baskets. And the rest of us will marvel at the expense someone will be pay for what amounts to a wooden receptacle for stuff. Go figure.

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