Laundry Day

I grew up in the home of a liberated woman. Now, this was before the word "liberated" had meaning in regards to women. My mother was never one to let anyone tell her what to do. She worked outside of the home while all the other mothers I knew stayed at home every day. Consequently, she had to play "catch up" on the weekend. One of the things that stands out in my mind is laundry day. Mom had an old double tub washing machine with a ringer between the two tubs. The tubs were filled with water from a garden hose out the back door; in one tub she poured Borax laundry soap and the machine would "agitate" to clean the clothes. Then she fed the clothes through the ringer with a yardstick (yardstick being the machine's only safety feature. I was always cautioned to avoid getting my fingers caught in the ringer as it could "pull your arm off") to squeeze out any excess soapy water. Next the the laundry went into the tub with clear water for the rinse cycle. If the clothes were white, she added a touch of "liquid blue". This was a bluing agent that made whites appear whiter. I never could figure out how something so blue, could make something look whiter--but it did! Then the clothing was fed through the ringers to once again squeeze out the excess water. Since she used the same wash water for all the laundry, she naturally washed the whites first, then colors, and then darks. Once all the clothes had been washed, the plug came out of the bottom of the laundry tubs and the water drained through a hose running out the back door. The laundry was then loaded into a bushel basket and carted to the back yard where it was hung in the sun to dry. I loved to be with my mom while she did the laundry and thought the whole process was particularly fascinating. We chatted and played word games while mom hung the clothes. I pretended to be her best friend "Mrs. Peterson" and the banter continued. When the clothes were retrieved from outdoors they were stiff and maintained the same shape as they had held on the clothesline.

Years later my mother was able to purchase her first automatic washing machine. The laundry room was next to my bedroom and as I laid in bed at night I had a terrific view of the washroom. My mother stood at the washing machine and stared in amazement as the machine did all the work. A light in the control panel illuminated the small washroom and I was able to view mom as she admired the machine that was going to simplify her life. Even as a child I was happy for my mom. I knew she loved it.