OMG. We used to play with Mercury in cooking class. We'd shoot the beads back and forth to each other. Wait...maybe there is a common thread here.
If you're interested, this is a section in my book on this topic:
We are a privileged generation for the most part and havent had to deal with many of the struggles our ancestors have had in the past. Many of us have forgotten things we should remember, appreciate, and pass down to our children. We generally have our health, our homes, food, and family members who love us. Most of us have not had to go to war, sewn our own clothes, or ration the weekly bath between multiple family members. They didnt live in a five bedroom, four-bathroom house with a maid and gardener. They didnt have their own cars, and if they did, it was an old beater that you had to fix yourself with parts from the junkyard. There were no cell phones, so if you needed to contact someone in an emergency, you had to find the dime and the phone booth to call home and hope they had a working phone. If not, you hoofed it on foot to your house and got a good lecture by mom and maybe a whooping by dad when you got there because you were late. I know I had to pick more than one willow switch from the tree for a lecture.
Graduating from High School was a luxury. Many kids were taken out of schools to work the farm, or go to war. Even though, many people made remarkable lives without having this degree.
My mother married at 14, had two children by 16, then me at 21. When I asked my Grandmother Gilbert how she could let her daughter marry at 14 and move to Germany with my military father
well, thats another long story. She always said, Thats just the way it was in those days. My Grandmother was probably the wisest person Ive ever met.
My Grandmother, born in 1888, bless her heart, had 18 children. Her given name was Arvid, but she always went by Jane. She always laughed and said, Every time Grandpa hung his pants on the bedpost Id have another baby. Only five of her children lived to adulthood, my mother being the youngest of them.
She was an early settler in South Dakota so there wasnt a lot of heath care. In fact, there was none. On her deathbed at 95, she was reduced to a small box of her belongings. When I knew she was failing, I flew back home to see her. I sat by her side for a week and went through each of the items with her talking about all the history and what each item meant to her. I was saddened to see that her 95 years of incredible life was reduced to a box, but she seemed to enjoy the memories and reminiscing about them. She would never let me record her stories. I asked over and over again. Its amazing what you dont know about someone.
Grandma Gilbert had hand written notes of her childrens births where the midwife service, if there was one
most times it was a neighbor who lived miles down the road, was traded for a chicken or two. Sometimes, she gave birth alone. My Grandfather, Joseph Gilbert, was out tending whatever fields and livestock they had at basically what is the base of Mount Rushmore. Imagine that. Now, we pay thousands of dollars for a doctor who might show up.
The hardest note to read was her sons suicide note that he wrote after coming back from WWII. He saw things no person should ever have to see. In the end, it was his memories that killed him. He couldnt make his mind forget the hundreds of tragedies he experienced in the past few years. His note was about sleeping in a muddy, cold, snow ridden trench for days on end, then seeing his friend of a week who slept right next to him being killed by a grenade. This was not the first time for him. He had seen many friends die. If you were lucky enough to have a friend for more than a few weeks during that war, you were extremely fortunate. He ended up committing suicide in a lonely car down the road from his mothers house with an exhaust pipe through the window. I wish I could have met him.
My Grandmother said it was the most painful thing shed ever gone through in 95 years. Shed lost other children, but it was because of illness and lack of healthcare. This death was because of a man-made war. She never understood how people could be so intolerant of each other. Wars are for fools, shed always say. If she were alive today, Id have her run for President.
My last visit was the week before she passed away. She was alert as an eagle, but her body was failing her. Although her mind was completely intact, her bones were literally crushing by the day. She passed away a week later after I had gone home. It was probably one of the most heartbreaking, yet most memorable times of my life.
When she passed, I had no money at the time so flying back for the funeral was not an option, but Ill never forget the time I had sharing her stories and memories. All I have from my Grandmother is a little brown leather coin case that was my Grandfathers and lots of great memories that I treasure to this day. I never had the pleasure of meeting my Grandfather Gilbert as he passed on before I was born, but would have liked to have met this spicy, hard-working fellow.
In the pouch was a lucky coin. The coin had an inscription on it that says, Linnie Jo Todd Lex. On the flip side, it simply said, Good Luck. Im not sure what that means, and have spent hours and hours trying to find out, but it obviously was important enough to my grandparents to pass it on to me. The coin is very weathered, but this is yet another journey for me to find out its significance.
The only other thing in the pouch was a ring. It appears to be a class ring, but is so old the writing and emblems have worn off. My Grandfather never made it past the sixth grade, so I doubt it was his. My Grandmother left New York as an immigrant at the age of 14 riding horse back to South Dakota, stowing away on trains, so it was most likely not hers either.
I carry the pouch with me every single minute as a reminder of my heritage. Its a reminder of the people who came before me and have shaped the life I now live. They are due credit.
Grandma was a peach and probably one of the most important people in my life. She grew with the decades. When she became virtually blind at about 90, she learned Braille on her own. She could cook, clean, and take her medicines without any help.
The one thing she never conquered was driving. Eons ago she lost her brakes literally on Strawberry Hill and got into a big accident. That car sat in her garage for the next 50 years. That car sat there like an icon. She never drove again. I dont remember her ever asking for a ride some place, but was always grateful when I came around.
I so miss the Saturday mornings where Id show up and take her grocery shopping, then go back and style her hair for the week. Shed get a good shampoo, lots of rollers, then TONS of Aqua Net to keep it nicely for the next week. Actually, I dont think she really cared a squat about the hairdo. She just wanted companionship.
I miss you Grandma.
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Times were definetely different. We'd play ball, kick the can, hide and seek until we heard the hollar - TIME TO COME IN!!!
My grands know it. 
