I Remember When…

Wash day was a big deal!  First you dragged the machine with its attached ringer out to the middle of the floor, and set up the rinse tub close enough that you could use that handy dandy ringer after rinsing.

Filled the washer with Hot Water usually heated on the stove, added Bleach and Soap!  First you dumped in the sheets, they were always white.  Let the good old machine agitate until you felt that they were as clean as they could get.  Ring them out with the ringer and watch your fingers!  Rinse them once Ring them again.  While the towels are agitating, you carried the sheets out to the handy dandy clothes line and  hang them out.  Winter or summer.

Once the towels were as clean as you could get, you start the process all over again.  Finally you got to the colored clothes, all in the same water, usually.  So by the time you were done everything got bleached.  Sometime a change of water was in order if it was yucky.

My most vivid memory is coming home from school and seeing my one and only Cashmere sweater hanging up over the stove.  To my horror it had undergone the torture of the ringer and Hot Water.

Published by Time Traveler of Life

Biography Creating worlds, characters, and wielding power like a madwoman, making my characters happy, sad, angry, and some of them with no redeeming qualities. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I sometimes laugh out loud when I am writing a scene, and I have been known to cry when one of my favorites has to die. I am a left-handed Gemini, what do you expect? Reading bedtime stories to my two children until they fell asleep or until they just told me to go away, was fun. Making up wild stories for my grandchild, and creating Halloween costumes from Cowboys to a Dragon, was another favorite thing to do. I missed that so much when they were grown, that I started writing. My yearly newsletters frequently were drafted third-person by my Love Birds, Miranda our motorhome, and by Sir Fit the White Knight, our faithful Honda. Throughout the years, some of my creative talents centered around writing letters of complaint expressing my displeasure with services or products. One crucial, at least to my Son, was a note to our local school bus driver petitioning her to allow him back on the bus. He was kicked off for making an obscene gesture at his buddy. I reminded her that it was not directed at her, and that “obscenity can be in the eye of the beholder,” kids use that gesture as a greeting. He rode the bus until he graduated. I loved driving my English teacher crazy. Leaving a “continued next week” at the end of my five handwritten pages required each week. He was one of many people that suggested I “do something about my writing.” I graduated from the School of Hard Knocks at the top of my class. After 30 years, in the trenches as a Real Estate Professional, I have found that truth is stranger than fiction. My books are filled with characters I met in that profession. Their names were changed to protect the guilty. Others were from people we met traveling around the country in Miranda, our Motorhome. I am married nearly 60 years to the love of my life, Shirl, and partner-produced two exceptionally talented children, and one grandchild who is our pride and joy.

%d bloggers like this: