By: Lois Monroe
In the hot, humid summer days in 1950s my sister, Marilyn and myself would spend two or three weeks each summer with Grandma Fern in Marion, IN. At first it was exciting and even fun as she taught us to use her ringer washer in the basement. It was fascinating how at the end of the load, the water spun into an extra tub to be saved for the next load. Sometimes when we attempted the process of feeding the clothes through the ringer, we would get to many and it would jam. Grandma would patiently take the ringer apart, pull the big bundle out, caution us to only put a few at a time through, put it back together and we would proceed on.
When the clothes were all rung out, we would take them upstairs, to the backyard and hang them out to dry. There was a whole science to the hanging. All the socks were hung at one time, then the underwear, etc, etc, etc. Depending on the day, it could take hours before everything was dry. Grandma had created a whole new playfield with her clothesline and transformed her boring backyard into a maze of wet clothes flying in the breeze like flags in a fairyland. We would have great fun playing games such as tag, running and hiding in the clothes as they smacked our faces. Of course, when Grandma caught us doing this, she would also give us a smack. Sheets, of course, were the most fun of all. You could actually play Hide and Seek in them.
Toward the late afternoon, however, everything would have to come down, methodically folding them in a basket and depositing clothespins in their bag. The promise though, was that next Monday our Magical Playground would return. With all our new and modern appliances, what memories have we taken from our kids on Wash Day? Why, we don’t even designate Mondays as Wash Day anymore!
Published U.S. Legacies March 2006
- Log in to post comments