NO! Oh NO! This 1950s advertisement doesn't show it like it really was. Believe me! It was everything but fun and glee.I must admit that washing clothes doesn’t have the same meaning it used to. Thank the Good Lord for that! Nowadays, we just whip the clothes into our front loader or top loader machine, place the laundry agents into their designated slots, press a button or two, and poof - our load is off and running. When it goes through its automated cycles, we just a flip of the laundry into the dryer, push a few buttons, and off they go into a spin - and off we go too!
I don't want to be depressing or anything - nor do I wish for sympathy. That's not my point for posting this today. Read to the end and you'll find out why I chose such - or if you don't want to bother reading the whole thing, just go to the end for my reasoning.
I remember this "monster". Well, calling it a "monster" is alittle harsh as it was better than using the older (non-electric)
washers or the basic scrub board. Hey, the more I look at it,
it's nice - really nice in comparison to the pre-monster types.
Washing our clothes was not magical as a girl. We had a Maytag wringer washing machine that would danced all over the back porch (thanks to its powerful gyrator). The gyrator was hailed as one of its major selling points. In all truth, this machine was one of the reasons ladies didn't have to go to the gym or watch what they ate. It was an exercise machine in itself. Well, if you had to chase the "monster" around the laundry porch, you'd agree. And yes, we had a laundry porch, which consisted of wash tubs, linoleum floor and wired screen around two sides of the room so to let the fresh air in during the cold, icy winter as well as the fresh air in during the hot, scorching summer. Hey, it was better than a wooden or concrete slab outdoors that many folks had. You know we should never complain if our laundry appliances are located in the garage. That would have been a blessing in my younger days. However, I must say that God is Good and I have been supremely blessed with an indoor laundry room for many, many years.
Now let's get back to my story. After the clothes were beaten too death, in that "modern form of 1950's technology", the next step was putting the clothes through the wringer. It was the process of taking the clothes out of the (usually) very hot, soapy water, then doing the wringer thing to take out excess water, only to purge them into a tub of cold water and wring again. Then if they were whites, it was into the bluing tub (blue liquid mixed with water to brighten clothes), wring them, and then drop them into a tub of cold water. The last wring for either the whites or coloreds was to wring them out AGAIN as dry as possible and place them in the clothes basket (wooden-weave, no plastics at that time - we were more environmentally- friendly at that time).
Unfortunately, sometimes more than the clothes got wrung - on occasion it was a sleeve of what you were wearing or your hand. Yes, a Hand. In panic mode, you'd hit the wringer release (if you could think above the pain) and pull out whatever was caught. I was a 9 or 10 year old girl so you can imagine the drama. (Often thought I should have gone into acting because I was pretty good - the screams and sobs were so natural). Truthfully, it was quite an ordeal at any age! If it was a hand, you'd let it lie there like a wet mop while turning ashen with tears gathering in the corners of your eyeballs. If it was your clothes that had a traumatic wring, it meant considering repair with needle and thread.
Oh, I forgot to mention that if you wanted shirts, blouses, skirts, dresses, hankies and sheets (yes, sheets! - nothing like a starched sheet to make for comfy bedding), a pan of starch was a must. With a conglomeration of powdered substance and water mixed in a large pan, you'd drop the selected clothing in the pan one by one, and gently agitated them with your hand – and after that? You got it, the wringer experience again.
We didn't own an electric or gas clothes dryer. In fact, dryers were rare at that time and not very proven as to their working condition. Well, truth was that many clothes ended up with burnt spots - and since it wasn't kosher to wear scorched clothing, my family elected to use nature's dryer. This sophisticated drying system consisted of several wire lines stretched between two posts, with clothes being held (prisoner) by wooden clothes pins. The Result of such labor: Sheets were stiff even without starching and ironing (but smelled sunshine fresh). Towels were rough (imagine drying a wet body with them - an experience in itself especially when taking a morning shower while half awake - scratch, scratch). All colored clothes would fade in no time (unless turned inside out when put on line but they’d still be stiff and still faded, only slower). And the unmentionables? Yes, they had their place - exposed for the world to see unless you hide them neatly in-between the rows of sheets and towels. And just think of their feel!
It took the greatest part of the day as normally laundry was done once a week - on Mondays (because Tuesday was ironing day - and since no-iron clothing didn't exist, it meant Iron poor soul, Iron! That is, all except the towels.). Well, I won’t even tell about the ironing process (if I did, I'd set myself up for a nightmare or two - if the washing hasn't already).
Now let's get back to my story. After the clothes were beaten too death, in that "modern form of 1950's technology", the next step was putting the clothes through the wringer. It was the process of taking the clothes out of the (usually) very hot, soapy water, then doing the wringer thing to take out excess water, only to purge them into a tub of cold water and wring again. Then if they were whites, it was into the bluing tub (blue liquid mixed with water to brighten clothes), wring them, and then drop them into a tub of cold water. The last wring for either the whites or coloreds was to wring them out AGAIN as dry as possible and place them in the clothes basket (wooden-weave, no plastics at that time - we were more environmentally- friendly at that time).
Unfortunately, sometimes more than the clothes got wrung - on occasion it was a sleeve of what you were wearing or your hand. Yes, a Hand. In panic mode, you'd hit the wringer release (if you could think above the pain) and pull out whatever was caught. I was a 9 or 10 year old girl so you can imagine the drama. (Often thought I should have gone into acting because I was pretty good - the screams and sobs were so natural). Truthfully, it was quite an ordeal at any age! If it was a hand, you'd let it lie there like a wet mop while turning ashen with tears gathering in the corners of your eyeballs. If it was your clothes that had a traumatic wring, it meant considering repair with needle and thread.Oh, I forgot to mention that if you wanted shirts, blouses, skirts, dresses, hankies and sheets (yes, sheets! - nothing like a starched sheet to make for comfy bedding), a pan of starch was a must. With a conglomeration of powdered substance and water mixed in a large pan, you'd drop the selected clothing in the pan one by one, and gently agitated them with your hand – and after that? You got it, the wringer experience again.
We didn't own an electric or gas clothes dryer. In fact, dryers were rare at that time and not very proven as to their working condition. Well, truth was that many clothes ended up with burnt spots - and since it wasn't kosher to wear scorched clothing, my family elected to use nature's dryer. This sophisticated drying system consisted of several wire lines stretched between two posts, with clothes being held (prisoner) by wooden clothes pins. The Result of such labor: Sheets were stiff even without starching and ironing (but smelled sunshine fresh). Towels were rough (imagine drying a wet body with them - an experience in itself especially when taking a morning shower while half awake - scratch, scratch). All colored clothes would fade in no time (unless turned inside out when put on line but they’d still be stiff and still faded, only slower). And the unmentionables? Yes, they had their place - exposed for the world to see unless you hide them neatly in-between the rows of sheets and towels. And just think of their feel!
It took the greatest part of the day as normally laundry was done once a week - on Mondays (because Tuesday was ironing day - and since no-iron clothing didn't exist, it meant Iron poor soul, Iron! That is, all except the towels.). Well, I won’t even tell about the ironing process (if I did, I'd set myself up for a nightmare or two - if the washing hasn't already).Well, I said all that to say this:
Washing clothes is a parallel to our walk with the Lord. Being a real Christian means we must be spiritually clean which means, at times, we must be aggressively agitated, placed in a tub of hot water, run through the wringer (perhaps several times), and then hung out to dry for the whole world to see. And because of the nature of man, we will probably need to be rewashed next Monday (if not sooner).
Washing clothes is a parallel to our walk with the Lord. Being a real Christian means we must be spiritually clean which means, at times, we must be aggressively agitated, placed in a tub of hot water, run through the wringer (perhaps several times), and then hung out to dry for the whole world to see. And because of the nature of man, we will probably need to be rewashed next Monday (if not sooner).
