Have you ever noticed that nobody sweeps anymore?
I was sweeping the porch over the weekend and found myself in sort of a zen-like sweeping mode. The whisking sound of the straw on the stoop soothed me, as did the back-and-forth arc of the broom. I meditated. The work went quickly.
Once upon a time, people took pride in their sweeping. Broom-making was a talent. Now it’s become so rare that it’s an art form. People swept, inside and out. Shop-keepers talked over broomsticks. Parents and old ladies threatened with them.
Sorrowfully, the broom has been relegated to a cob-webby garage corner. Which makes me sad, because it has so informed our culture. Couples “jump the broom” after taking vows. In baseball, there’s the “clean sweep.” If you’re in love, you’ve probably been “swept off your feet.” And if you work in government, you’ve probably “swept something under the rug.” Notice that baseball teams don’t ever “vacuum” the competion. Nor do lovers find themselves “vacuumed away.”
Guess nobody has time for sweeping any more. For the Edgy Mamas of the world, it’s all about the latest and greatest Dyson or those damn Swiffer thingys.
I say rise up and take a stand. Unplug. Sweep. Think. Relax. Then sweep some more.
11 Comments
What annoys the hell out of me is the replacement of outdoor sweeping and raking with leafblowers. Those little engines are heavy on hydrocarbon pollution, and the dust they stir up increases particulates in our breathing space.
I witnessed what may be the most absurd version of this in a highway rest area during a major windstorm. The state employee was dutifully blowing leaves from the parking area at about half the rate they were blowing back onto the pavement, while I had to dash through choking dust to make my pit stop.
Hurray for rakes and brooms. Powered by renewable energy, meditative and thorough.
I don’t think people should feel bad for not using relatively outdated tools…
It must be fun to ride your boneshaker bicycle over to the gymnasium for a rigorous session of trapazoidal weightlifting with your buddy Bartimus before hopping into your auto-coach and driving into the sunset of your anachronistic fairy tell land!
tantra, tantric. i can do it all, EM.
You mean Tantric, Ash?
I sweep! I’m a broommaker’s daughter, so I always have the best brooms for sweeping, cobweb clearing, and all that. I love the sound it makes on the wooden porch, but sweeping linoleum does nothing for me.
ok, ok, EM. but i know you love your Dyson.
restless, i do not Yoga. but i do Tantra.
catnap, you need a dustpan.
Dad, you taught me well.
Well hell-o, Unknown City. thanks!
Peek-a-boo, we’ve blogged you!
I sweep. The little patio out back and the front side walk. Once in awhile I sweep the breeze-way. I find it’s an agreeable chore and don’t mind doing it. The results are well worth the effort.
We sweep but we don’t use a dustpan – we pick up the pile of dust/dirt/kid’s dinner droppings with a hand vacc.
I swept today. too. Now, Ash, you sweeping is hard to visualize, but i like it! Do you do Yoga, too?
I sweep, you snob! I swept my front porch this weekend. And I sweep under the kids’ chairs EVERY night.