MonoMonday: Metal

If this little salt shaker could talk, I am sure it would have quite a tale to tell. I have no idea how old it is, but do know that it was brought out of Hungary in the 1940s by a woman who eventually became my piano teacher. Her husband was a doctor and a Jew. When they could no longer safely live in their homeland, they escaped and made their way to America, settling in a small farming community where he opened a medical practice, and she began to teach piano to a little group of private students. I was blessed to be one of her students, and I have wonderful memories of the hours spent in her living room with its tapestry-covered walls, two grand pianos, and many mementos of their former home. It was an exotic environment for this young piano student, and she was a demanding teacher, but a kind and gentle person. I believe I was seven when my mother took me for the first of many lessons that continued, as I remember it, until my senior year in high school. I would walk or ride my bike the 2-3 miles from our home to hers, enter the front door through the doctor's waiting room and walk past his patients into their residence for my twice-weekly lessons.

It was, perhaps, like Alice's trip through the rabbit hole into Wonderland (Although admittedly it has been eons since I read Alice, and I may be a bit confused in my memories). My childhood memories are very special, but some are sharp and clear, while others are fuzzy and lacking in detail. I cannot remember the occasion when she gave me the gift of this little salt shaker, but just holding it in my hand brings back the place, my teacher, and a special time in my life. For that reason, I treasure it.

Thanks to Bob for holding the little salt shaker for this photo. I thought that would give a better sense of its size. Thanks also to freddsmum for hosting MonoMonday this week.