The Writer's Pen

When I was growing up in the Fifties, I awoke on Monday mornings to the sound of the old Maytag washer humming in the basement Mom’s weekly laundry routine followed the same pattern as most homemakers of the day – wash and dry clothes on Monday, iron and put them away on Tuesday. Indeed, doing laundry back then wasn’t the willy-nilly affair that it’s become today when we pop a load in the washer on our way out the door, and transfer it to the dryer when we return home.

On washday, the family’s dirty clothes were carried to the basement where they were sorted into piles – whites, towels and socks, colored clothes, and dirty jeans. Each pile was sized to fit into the tub of the washing machine. The old Maytag wringer washer was filled with hot water to which detergent and bleach – and sometimes bluing – had been added. Two rinse tubs filled with cold water sat adjacent to the washing machine. The whites were washed first in the hottest, cleanest water. After agitating for half-an-hour, they were sent through the wringer into the first of the rinse tubs. When I was old enough to avoid catching my fingers in the wringer, this process became my job during the summers.

I used an oak stick to bring the pieces of laundry up out of the hot water, then found an edge of the fabric and started it through the wringer. Each piece continued on through the wringer into the first rinse tub as the sudsy water squeezed out and ran back into the washing machine. While this load of laundry sat in the rinse tub, the next load – the towels and socks – swirled around the agitator in the Maytag. Meanwhile, the first tub of rinsed laundry was sent through the wringer into the second tub of cold water.

This process continued throughout the morning with each successive load going into the original water in the Maytag. Since water dripped out when laundry went through the wringer, we needed to add more water as needed, along with more detergent. Even so, by the time the final load – jeans and overalls – were washed, the water was murky. We were fortunate to have a sink with running water nearby, so the washer and tubs could be filled with a hose. Many families had to carry water to the washer and tubs with buckets.

After being rinsed in the second tub, clothes were sent through the wringer a final time and dropped into a wicker clothes basket that sat on the floor. The heavy basket of wet clothes was then taken outside to the clothesline. At our house, this meant the basket was carried up the steps and out the back door. Clothes were hung on the line every week of the year, except for rainy days and the coldest days of winter when they were hung on lines in the basement.

There were rules to follow when hanging clothes on the clothesline. It began with washing the line, a job given to younger children. Holding a wet, soap-filled rag above their heads, they would walk back and forth along each line to remove dirt and other debris. The clothes were then hung in a prescribed order. Sheets were tricky. They had to be removed from the basket by the four corners and stretched out on the line without allowing them to touch the ground and get soiled. If that happened, they were brought back inside to be re-washed or hand washed in the sink. Once the sheets were fluttering in the breeze, ‘unmentionables’ were hung side-by-side on an inner line where they were hidden from view by passersby. Towels were hung by the narrowest edges, never draped over the line. Shirts were hung up-side-down at the seams, with two shirts sharing a clothespin. Jeans were hung individually at the waistband. Some women inserted rectangular wire forms into the legs of jeans in order to give them a creased look when dry.

If it was a breezy day, the clothes were somewhat softened by the time they dried and came back inside. On a calm day, the clothes came off the line stiff and difficult to fold. The scratchy, unyielding towels were especially harsh. On the coldest days, the laundry froze outside and finished drying where it was scattered about the house and draped over furniture.

Washday was a grueling task that lasted from sunup until late afternoon. Today, I continue to hang some laundry on the line to save energy costs, but for the most part I use my electric dryer and automatic washer with joy and relief. I remember well when Monday was washday, and life was hard.

Bonnie Ewoldt, of rural Milford is a retired teacher, news junkie and freelance writer.Visit her blog at http://www.bonniesblogbox.wordpress.com.