March 19, 1981

No household is complete without one.  You may have a fancy toothbrush holder, a self-cleaning oven, a garden hose nozzle, and two phillips screwdrivers, but unless you have The Jar there is a lacking in the home place.

At an early age we became aware of the importance of The Jar.  Dad was busy getting the lawnmower ready for its summer workout.  Carburetor parts were strewn from one end of the back porch to the other.  Everything, it seemed, which was needed to make that mower function was laying within arm's reach.

But then, as he sat amid the mower litter, Dad said with reverence, "Go get me The Jar."

There it was on the top shelf, reigning majestically over the utility room.  It was tall, thick and clean with a shiny brass lid.  When its contents were gingerly poured out onto the porch a wonder was revealed.  There were pieces of wire, springs, tacks, fishhooks, instructions for repairing the kitchen plumbing, two links from a bicycle chain, a piece of hose, a spark plug, two long toggle bolts, three peculiar chunks of metal, a dial from the radio, a used piece sandpaper, some kite string, seven paper clips, a bent curtain hanger, and a quarter-full tube of grease.  The remaining space was filled with nuts, bolts, screws, nails and washers of every conceivable size.

It was a marvel that so much could be contained in one jar.  But then, this was no normal jar, this was The Jar.

After a moments search, Dad found the spring he desired and in no time at all the mower was roaring like a hungry beast prowling for grass.

The scene would repeat itself innumerable times.  Whenever repairs were made to the car, the house, or the implements, the potent words were uttered.  "Go get me The Jar."  And The Jar never failed.  It always contained just the right piece to complete the task.  As time passed, other things were added to  The Jar.  When a job was finished and parts remained, they were granted the honor of residing in The Jar.  Regardless of what was shoved in, The Jar always expanded just enough to incorporate it.

When a young person leaves home he bids goodbye to Dad, Mom and siblings.  He also says adieu to The Jar.  It is a difficult void to fill.  There is no magic container to turn to when a nail or spring or fishhook is needed.  There is no tube of grease nor chunk of metal.  It is not an easy time.  Washers and nuts and bolts and screws must be purchased.  Nowhere is there to be found a dial from a radio.  But, slowly, extra parts do accumulate and they are piled in a jar on a shelf somewhere.

Last week, while framing pictures, there developed a need for a small hanging hook. Just before hopping into the car and heading for Prairie Lumber, we strolled into the kitchen.  And there it was, up on the top shelf, reigning majestically over the pantry, The Jar.

Pouring its acquired wealth onto the table we realized everything was there; the instructions for repairing the kitchen plumbing, the nuts, the bolts, the two links of bicycle chain.  There also was a small hanging hook.

After ten years of marriage, our household is finally complete....  ~T. Stucky