Souvenirs

From Stuff with Stories

Granddaughter Anna Lauren discovered my grandmother’s salt and pepper shakers in a curio cabinet the other day. She knew they had a story to tell, because my home is filled with the odds and ends of other people’s lives. I told her as much as I could remember.

My grandmother died when I was 11. Until then, every Miller grandchild’s birthday was celebrated at her house in Ryland, the one with no indoor plumbing. A coal-fired stove sat in the middle of the front room; a wood-fired stove filled the kitchen; and beds packed the third room. She scrambled brains with eggs, baked cathead biscuits, and made chicken stew from scratch. A shallow pan held drinking water from the backyard well while a dipper made glasses unnecessary. When she died, I inherited one third of her collection of salt and pepper shakers; my cousins Patti and Connie got the others. Mostly, though, I remember peeing in the woods.

My grandmother spent all of her days on a farm in Ryland, Alabama. During the Great Depression, the farm was lost to the bank, and she and my grandfather became share-croppers on the same land they once owned. She chopped cotton, raised five children, dipped snuff, wore a bonnet, plucked chickens, tended the garden, and peed in the woods. Her life was incredibly hard, and I found it difficult to relate to her. Except for the salt and pepper shakers.

Because I was the oldest granddaughter, I chose first. A pair of blue birds with pink feathers glued to their little heads spoke to me loud and clear. Next came skunks, cats, dogs, musically-inclined horses, penguins, elephants, rabbits, fish, chickens, owls, corn, oranges, scarecrows, totems, cacti, outhouses, and clowns. I left my grandmother’s house that day with 37 pairs salt and pepper shakers.

I don’t know of a single soul who collects salt and pepper shakers today, but for my grandmother they were treasures. When her children and grandchildren returned with their souvenirs, they shared with her their experiences. I suspect that for her the real souvenir was the time they spent in her front room, eating chicken stew and cathead biscuits, drinking water from the dipper, and telling her about their adventures.

Love,
Gay, the family storyteller
August 4, 2012