Hung up on Laundry

I’m Hung up on Laundry

Pun intended

When I was a child I spent a lot of time at my Gram’s on the farm.  Her kitchen was long and narrow with one window at the end.  The kitchen sink was porcelain with one large basin and single faucets.  Opposite the sink was a Maytag wringer washer; the one with the square tub.

This was the height of luxury to my Gram.  There were many changes within a few years due to the fact that the kids (9 of them) had grown up and moved out except for Aunt Gayle and her family who lived with Gram.  The siblings and siblings-in-law got together and modernized a bit.  Running water was piped in.  Just cold for a while, but eventually a luxurious hot water heater was put in.  There was a glitch in the installation of the hot water and somehow the toilet (wow, an inside toilet) got hooked up with hot instead of cold!  Strange sensation but welcome in the winter.

The kerosene stove was replaced with a large electric stove that stood on legs and had an oven on the end.  It looked kind of like this. 

This stove worked its way into my family many years later. (Another story).

I loved to be there on wash day.  Before the hot water was installed, Gram and Aunt Gayle heated water on the new stove to pour into the Maytag.  Then Gram would take her paring knife and shave a bar of Fels Naptha soap into to washing machine tub.

I remember standing on my tiptoes and watching the flakes fall into the hot steaming water.  The smell of the soap was wonderful. At least it was to me.

I watched the whole process.  They started with the white clothes, sheets towels etc.  Then the colored clothes and last the jeans and coveralls that my uncles wore for work and in the barn.  By that time the water had cooled down so the colors didn’t run.   I helped (“be careful, don’t get your hands too close to the wringer”) catch the clothes and guide them into the rinse tub as they came out of the wringer smashed flat.  There was a special way to feed them in so the buttons wouldn’t pop off.  I helped to hang the clothes on the line by handing the clothespins to Gram or Aunt Gayle.  The lines would be weighed down so much that we had special long poles to lift them up and keep the clothes from touching the grass.  My favorite time was in the spring especially when the lilacs were blooming.  Ahh the fragrance…a bit of breeze, birds tweeting…..

Then, when my Mom tucked me in at night I loved the fresh clean smell of the sheets with just a touch of lilac.  MMMM seems a lot of my memories are triggered by smells.  Am I sparking any memories in you?  Comments welcome.