Clotheslines and other fun stuff
One summer morning back in my childhood, I was sent out to the backyard to bring in sheets off the clothesline. I was stunned to see a couple of cows in the yard, one of which was placidly chewing on the laundry, or trying to. Our house - before General Motors bought up all the light rail lines so that people would have to buy cars - had been a trolley station halfway between Milwaukee and Janesville.
The land on either side of the tracks, including our yard, was maybe 10’ higher than the level of the tracks. We figured the cows escaped from Salentine’s farm maybe a mile up the tracks from our place, as they were the closest cow-owning farmers to us. I told my folks, and they called Mr. Salentine and the cows went home somehow. I can’t remember if any of the sheets had to be altered (Mom would not have tossed an entire sheet just because one corner got chewed up). But it’s one memory from my childhood that none of my sibs are likely to challenge.
Of all the chores we could have been assigned, I think I mostly didn’t mind hanging out wash. It’s hard to screw up, and you get to be outside. I hated washing dishes, hated drying dishes even more. Wasn’t nuts about any other household chore, although I loved helping Dad examining the pennies he bought from the church after every Mass; he had a fabulous penny collection. He’d dump them out onto the kitchen table and we’d sort them, occasionally find a good one (ask me anytime to show you my 1909S-VDB!), and roll up the rest in those red paper sleeves upon which Dad would write “BG” and take them to the bank. I think his buddies at the bank perhaps also rolled up pennies for him; otherwise, why bother to initial them? I remember hearing about some out-of-town penny collector - probably from Milwaukee - buying all the penny rolls our bank had, and being really mad that every roll had “BG” inked on it.
Oh…forgot…this is about clotheslines. There’s something pure and refreshing about hanging out wash. I had a carpenter install a trellis on both ends of my deck, and I installed six lines. I bought a retail store wall rack unit - perhaps 3’x 4’ - and my brother installed 8 pulleys (4 on the kitchen ceiling, 4 on the wall) and a cleat to tie off the 4 lines that allow me to hang wash and pull it up to almost the 12’ high ceiling above the Monitor (a kerosene heater common in these parts), so that when it’s too wet to hang outside, I can hang wash inside on the Banjo Mike Flyer Dryer. Which in the winter, doubles as a humidifier. I’d include a picture, but that’d mean I’d have to turn the kitchen light on and check for cobwebs first. It’s almost midnight and I don’t feel like it.
I hung a load of wash earlier this week, starting with small pieces, since the first line is directly above the deck railing, and I don’t want any fabrics to be dragged over the treated lumber. I call this my hillbilly prayer flags:
I have also used the deck clotheslines to create a shaded place for the dogs, by pinning a bedsheet across all six lines. After a time or two of that, and the dogs preferring to just come back into the house through the dog door, I quit. It does come in handy for odd yard jobs once in a blue moon, but right now I can’t recall any. It’ll come to me after I hit ‘send’ more than likely.
Pa Doll, my maternal grandfather, was born August 11, 1867. He had a great sense of humor, which Ma Doll didn’t necessarily appreciate - especially when it made the papers. Here he is, out by the clothesline mortifying my grandmother once again, for thousands of Milwaukee Journal subscribers to enjoy:
He died when I was very young, but I think we would have been good buddies if I’d been born sooner or he made it a few years more past the age of 91.
I’m really loving that Buttondown accommodates sending pictures; Tinyletter was a bit easier to use, but without pictures, my descriptions could get quite lengthy.
Normally, I don’t quote stuff I read or see on the internet, but this was too good - saw it on Facebook, which I’m back on, but not for funsies (mostly). I’m actually being really nice and explaining to some right wing friends why what they’re claiming to know about Kamala Harris (for instance, that she’s slept her way up) is disinformation. Yes, I know the chances of turning a tRumpy around are slim, but I’ve done it before and I might again. So…this one just cracked me up - I don’t know how it is were you are, but we have got some county commissioners who’ve appointed some real yahoos to our library board, based solely on a Moms for Liberty Florida resident who trolled into our library and saw a Pride Month display about as big as your keyboard. (She is now ON the library board!) So here’s our chuckle for the day:
Apropo of nothing but cuteness, here’s my neighbor Jacobo (I call him “Booger” when his mom’s not listening) trying to figure out how to get a Sheep’s Nose apple into that teensy little mouth:
Time to find another funny book to laugh myself to sleep.
Nighty night!
xox
Lucy