Write a personal essay each day of the final week of June with the 2024 Personal Essay Challenge.  For today’s prompt, write about a work experience.

Knickknack, Paddy-whack, Give a Dog a Bone

Very early on, when I was nine or ten, I became the chief knickknack duster of our home. My mother, a widow, worked full-time at a Vitamin factory, where my father worked until he died, and she felt I was now old enough to do the job. There were only the two of us now. 

So, after walking the half-mile home from school and checking in with the neighbor, I was expected to do my part, my everyday chores. I was to do my homework, foremost, of course! Then, according to a note Mom left on the kitchen table, I was to put a pre-made meatloaf or casserole in the oven at the right time and temperature for it to be ready to eat at dinner. I had to clean my pet parakeet’s cage. And I had to dust the knickknacks.   

Mom collected salt-and-pepper shakers. She had hundreds of sets. She collected them from all over the country or from the neighborhood Five-and-Dime store. They were cute (mostly). Some made me smile. Some were very difficult to dust because they had ceramic lace or intricate parts.  Ugh! 

They NEVER held either white or black condiments! They were for “looks” only. And, for memories. Sometimes, when I had no homework, I would group them in funny ways – like marching in a parade,  having a secret meeting, or just following the leader from the tallest down to the smallest.  Sometimes, I paired them with all salts and all peppers. Mom wasn’t pleased with my staging, and I usually had to put them all back in formal pairs.

The animal shakers were the most fun. Also, the food shakers. One pair was a triangle of Swiss cheese and a very cute gray mouse! One was a hot dog and a red and white striped carton of popcorn. Another set was a spotted dog with his front end down and his haunches with tail up. The companion piece was a big bone. 

After a while, the job got boring and tedious. I ran out of stories to make up with the creatures, the monuments, and the food.  I began shirking the hardest-to-dust ones, just running the duster or dust rag over the tops. Often, I would not dust the table or shelf under them, a discrepancy Mom soon discovered when she lifted one and saw the “ring of clean.” 

Sometimes, when I neglected the task for a few days, she would make me wash them in hot, sudsy water, wasting most of a Saturday morning. I resented that, and them, and… her.

Fast-forward sixty-three years, and I once again spent a Saturday washing salt and pepper shakers, noting that now, some had been broken and clued together, some little pieces had broken off, and some salt or pepper part of the set was gone.  This time, I put them in boxes filled with crunched newspapers.  They were going to an estate sale. Some of the whole cuter sets might be bought, but most would surely be thrown out.

Mom’s pride and joy salt-and-pepper shakers are memories now, hers and mine. Would anyone appreciate them or play with them? She was gone, and soon, her collection would be too. The shelves and table tops are bare and polished, also bound for the sale. 

Should I save one set, for old time’s sake? For Mom?