Getting help from my friend WEB, I explored the spellings and definitions of chachkies. It is also spelled tchotchkes and so many other ways, depending on the person writing the word. I prefer chachkies, but I don’t prefer the definition given. As defined by friend WEB, chachkies is a Yiddish word for trinkets and collectables. Well, I can agree with that definition – more later about that. But, the Urban Dictionary’s definition does not sit well with me. Chachkies in my house cannot be described as “a small piece of worthless crap, a decorative knick knack with little or no purpose.” Everything in my house has a purpose; nothing should be described as “crap.”
I like things – lots of things. I like window sills that offer a place for pieces of glassware, flameless candles, and momentos gathered from travels (mine and others). I have floor lamps and basic ceiling lights with things hanging from spaces on the lamps. My kitchen ceiling light has Christmas ornaments that I don’t want to put away during the year.
My house has old-fashioned casement windows. That means that on the inside of each window that can be cranked out into the elements, there is a window screen. Several of those screens hold chachkies hung on tree ornament wires. If you were to explore the hangers on the kitchen screen, you’d find Christmas ornaments, two birds (one blue stained glass; the other white ceramic), handprints of children from their kindergarten years, and other momentos that have meaning to me. The largest on the kitchen screen is the Serenity Prayer on glass: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can. And the wisdom to know the difference. Amen” (Reinhold Niebuhr, 1892–1971, eminent theologian)
I live in a house that was constructed way back in the fifties. For some reason, the builder decided that metals were especially made for building houses. And, so, the inside walls that were not intended to have water pipes passing through them are metal lath with plaster surfaces, only about 2 1/4 inches thick. All of the walls, actually, are plaster – there is no wall board to be found. It takes a skilled worker to hang a picture on one of my walls!
Metal doors live inside of metal door frames – doors to close off rooms, as well as sliding closet doors. Some of those metal doors have become my bulletin boards for magnets. Magnets that are funny or sad. Reminders of “causes” that I care about. Photographs of my Grands in magnetic holders.
Because my refrigerator’s door is old fashioned – magnets will stick to it. Magnets have replaced the original children’s drawings and school work. My favorite is a photograph of Larry and Libby, one of our Schnauzers. They are nose-to-nose and seem to be telling each others about the trials and tribulations of dealing with cancer.
On a window sill in the dining room located at the front of the house stands a tall, brown Van Briggle cat wearing a round, gold pendant necklace. The necklace has the inscription: TSOLDJH-YHTMT. Gibberish – right? Nope! That stands for “The Sounds of Love Don’t Just Happen – You Have To Make Them.” It sits surrounded by those flameless candles that are set to turn on at dusk and off – twelve hours later.
Larry always wanted to see the place where Shakespeare lived. We were able to visit Stratford-upon-Avon while visiting friends in England. The only thing he brought home from that visit is a cloth model of the house. Its home is on the window sill in the front room.
On a window sill in what we call “The Big Room” sit two large fabric angels. Two more fabric angels sit atop a china cabinet in the living room. I like things sitting on tables, cabinets, night stands, and, of course, window sills.
It is interesting to me that when being visited by young women (say, in their thirties or forties), it seems that they don’t see the real beauty in the glass and the objects. They almost always ask, “How long does it take to clean this stuff?” What they don’t seem to realize is that dusting “this stuff” is never a chore. Each piece that I pick up to clean reminds me of something. How I came to have it. Who gave it to me. How long has it been part of my collection?
These chachkies may have no value to any one else, but to me, they are all priceless!
Be Safe and Be Well.
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are always appreciated.
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