Brooms have served me well in my life. I’ve used them countless times, and I mean countless. This is yet another one of my quirks. I must have a clean floor, or all bets are off.
These days (and I’m not alone in this), I turn to the Swiffer or the Shark portable vac. But the broom is still my trusty friend, and we sweep together in so many ways, clearing the world of little piles of dirt that add up if you’re not paying attention.
As Johann Wolfgang von Goethe so wisely once said, “Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.”
Ahh. No truer words. In so many ways.
I learned the importance of sweeping at an early age. We were a house of chores growing up. I can’t speak for the older kids, but my Saturdays went like this. Saturday was special breakfast day. All the other days of the week, we ate glorious fried eggs, but on Saturdays, we feasted on either waffles, pancakes, or French toast. Our one-time sugar buzz. We were allowed to enjoy our breakfast in front of the TV, to get a dose of Saturday morning cartoons, before we got to our toilet cleaning and bathtub scrubbing.
I can remember one Saturday in particular. Please know that my Dad was part saint. He worked a full-time job as a design engineer at Frigidaire. He also did the manly kind of things, like painting walls, roof repair, and plumbing. But above and beyond that, he folded laundry, washed dishes, ran the vacuum, took out trash, and on and on.
Back to Saturday morning. He was running the sweeper as my sister and I relished our waffles and watched Johnny Quest. I got my Dad’s attention and let him know that I could not hear the TV over his vacuum cleaner. Let’s just say that was a wee bit of a mistake on my part. I learned rather quickly that I wouldn’t be complaining about that again, as breakfast came to a swift end, Johnny Quest faded to black, and I had that vacuum in hand finishing the job.
“Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.”
And so it goes.
But I was speaking of the trusty broom. There is no exact date that marks the invention of the broom. In ancient times, and even in the bible, we hear of those bundles of twigs tied together and attached to a stick that were used to sweep up ash and embers around fires.
The first reference of witches flying on broomsticks was in 1453. The man riding the broom was named Guillaume Edelin. While witches were mostly female back then, this man was found guilty of being a witch. And broom rider. He confessed and repented, yet lived out the rest of his life in a dungeon. Of course, his flying on a broom has never been proven, but it was documented with paintings back then.
Modern broom-making did not start until about 1797. A farmer in Massachusetts named Levi Dickinson had the idea to make his wife a broom as a gift to clean their house with. How very thoughtful of him. Regardless, he made them from sorghum, and by the 1800s, Dickinson was selling hundreds of brooms each year.
I hope he bought his wife something nice with the proceeds — flowers, at the very least.
Flat brooms were invented in the early 19th century by Shakers, and those folks are smart when it comes to design. By 1839, the United States had 303 broom factories and 1,039 by 1919. Sweeping was catching on. Oklahoma became the heart of the broom-making industry. And I’m not sure why. Maybe the song? Oooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plains.
Regardless. I like a broom. And I like what the broom does. And I shall always sweep, so long as I am able.
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“If something bad smells in the basement, it will eventually make its way to the attic.”
― Anthony Liccione
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“There comes a point when you can only sweep so much under the rug, ’til you feel lumps under your feet and your path seems to become less comfortable.”
― Stuart J. Scesney
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“Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.”
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A sweeping gesture, and then some.
