SALT SHAKERS

Salt Shakers

When I was a young girl, my mom got remarried. I don’t remember much about meeting my new stepfather, or anything else like that, but I do remember the first time we went to visit his parents. The house was small and crowded. For the most part, it was a normal house, unremarkable even, but there was one thing that held my attention for hours. His mom had a collection of pepper and salt shakers that was unbelievable. She had to use multiple cabinets to house the collection, and there was more in boxes.

She wasn’t a very pleasant woman, and when we went to visit, I found that I wanted to avoid the entire scene. I didn’t like most of his family, and they certainly didn’t care if I was around much or not. I spent a lot of time looking at her pepper and salt shakers, and as long as I didn’t break anything, I was welcome to spend my time there looking through her collection. In retrospect, remembering how unpleasant she was, I am surprised she ever let me hold a salt shaker, let alone handle the entire collection.

When I got older, I didn’t have to go visit if I didn’t want to, and I often opted to stay home to avoid my stepfather’s family all together. I always remember the days of playing with her pepper and salt shakers, and I remember that it seemed she had every one ever made. Most of them were decorative, and I often wondered what made her choose to collect shakers. Even years after her death, I still wonder why I was so fascinated in the tiny ceramic animals and figures behind the glass.

Once she passed on, her collection of pepper and salt shakers ended up with my stepfather. Though he and I don’t really get along, I think he remembered how I was fascinated with the collection, and he told me that I could have some if I wanted them. I sat down that afternoon and went through the boxes of pepper and salt shakers and chose just a few that I especially liked. I still have them, and I think one of the salt shakers eventually broke. I’m not sure why I have them, as I didn’t like her very much. Perhaps back then they were an escape, and when I look at them now, I am glad they were there for me.