The Purple Door Knob

I love door knobs...I really do.  The older the knob, the better I like it. Have you ever met any other door knob lovers? My sister Cathy is a door knob lover.  I think my daughter Michelle might be a knob lover too.  Have you ever noticed the door knobs in your house?  Are they a pretty polished nickle.. . . or maybe brass?   With our 3 Littles running around, our beautiful old black door knobs are often sticky, but time will take care of that all too soon, so we tolerate sticky with a glad heart.  


In the early 18th Century, door knobs were usually made from rope or wood and had no locks. Later on, due to health and sanitary reasons, door knobs were changed to brass and copper. Did you know that brass and copper door knobs can self-disinfect from several strains of germs in about 8 hours? Interesting huh! Well I have a passion for pretty door knobs and I can tell you the color shape and size of every door knob on each door in my house.


I think my love for knobs began when I was 7 years old.   In my first blog post, I mentioned the little Dairy House we lived in.  I want to periodically share about the Dairy House because that little house played a big part in my life and helped mold who I am.  


We moved from the Projects in the city, out to the country when I was in 3rd grade.  We were surrounded by fields of cotton, maze and dairy cows.  The Dairy House was not big at all but it was big enough for us. It wasn't pretty to look at. It was old and built of thin wooden slats that had not seen a coat of paint for at least 20 years.  Around the back side of the house was a narrow door that went in to Mom and Dad's bedroom.  I'm not sure why, but we were not allowed to open the door. Mom always said it was broken so it remained locked at all times. It may have even been nailed shut.  On that narrow door was the most beautiful door knob I had ever seen.  It looked almost exactly like the one in this picture.  In fact, when I found this picture, it brought tears to my eyes because it looks so much like our old door knob. Even the wood and the moulding look the same.  If I did not know better, I would swear someone took a picture of our old door.  The knob was the most beautiful shade of purple glass.  It sparkled like a jewel when the sun hit it.  I can remember putting my face up to it, trying to look at the world though it.  Everything became the most beautiful shade of purple.  Even though I knew the door went into a bedroom, in my imagination, that beautiful purple door knob opened a door into a secret world that only I held the key to.  I spent many hours dreaming about that magical world beyond that door.  As I grew older, my imaginary magical world faded, but my love for the purple glass door knob never did.


Life was good in the Dairy House even though some of our most trying times were spent there.  It's those trying times that helped us all grow in so many ways....you know how there's always growth in those valleys of our lives.  So now, let's fast forward a few years.  When I was  14, my Dad became sick and we needed to relocate to a new town, one closer to his doctors.   It was moving day. We were all busy getting the last of the boxes on the truck.  As I came around the corner I stopped in my tracks by what I saw. The door. . . the one that had been locked all those years, was standing wide open.  I stood there in disbelief, that someone had opened my magical door.  I walked slowly towards the door, hesitant to peek in.  In reality, I knew what I was going to see, but I remember feeling afraid to walk through it.   Inside, my oldest sister Evelyn and my brother Sam, were trying to get a huge old antique buffet out that small door.  It was so big, that no matter how they turned, it just would not fit through that door. I can remember them laughing to the point of tears.  Mom decided that the buffet belonged with the  Dairy House, so it stayed.  The last load was now on the truck and it was time to go.  I can remember walking through the house with Mom for one last look, making sure nothing had been forgotten.  My eye caught the sight of the door knob. . .Oh no. . .MOM!!! we HAVE to take the door knob. . .we can't leave it here.  I can't remember exactly what she said to me but I remember she understood.  I remember her arm around my shoulder. I remember she said something like ...."the door knob belongs with the house. When we moved into this little faded old house, I fell in love with that beautiful purple door knob.  This house has loved us over the last 7 years, so we need to love it back and let the purple knob stay here for the next family to enjoy."  There was just something about the way she said it, that it just felt right.  The purple door knob was not mine.  It belonged to the house.  I remember crying for at least 50 miles as we left the life we knew behind with the beautiful purple glass door knob. 


Years later, after I married, I wanted my husband to see the house where I spent some of the happiest years of my childhood. I wanted him to see the beautiful purple glass door knob.  Sadly, the house had been torn down and a huge field of alphafa was now growing where we once grew as a family. I think about the door knob often and hope that it was rescued by someone who realized it's value. Hopefully, by someone who looks through it and sees the beautiful color it can make the world.