Laundry Day Memories

Celeste Silva, a very good friend of mine, from Portugal took this picture.  As soon as I saw the picture, it made me think of my grandmother and her weekly wash day.

I asked Celeste if I could have a copy of the photo because I wanted to write a blog about it.  Celeste was gracious enough to agree and sent the the photo immediately.  Thank you my friend, that is what good friends do for each other. I hope my blog does your photo justice.


From the time I was born until I was 11 my mother and I lived with my grandparents. I was very blessed, and loved unconditionally.  For that alone, I will be eternally grateful to them.

We lived in a small shotgun house, exactly one block from the only stop light in Clinton, Kentucky. Next door was the Post Office, across the street was the jail and on each end of our block, were two churches. Mrs. Clapp's house separated us from the Methodist Church and the Post Office was located to the left of Mamamae's home and the Baptist Church.  I always had some off limit places to play.  And I loved it.


I can remember when we had an icebox instead of a refrigerator. Ice was delivered in huge blocks and kept in the top of the icebox. It was delivered once or twice a week.

The milkman delivered our milk in glass jugs about twice a week. They were left on the front porch and the empty jugs were picked up in exchange for  the full ones.


No one in town had air conditioning. Instead we had fans and a huge window fan that kept the whole house cool at night.

We didn't have a t.v. until I was 10 and for that I am grateful.  I played, used my imagination and generally had fun playing with the other kids on my street. When I became older, I lived in books.


Once a week, Mamamae did the laundry and I always wanted to be around for that. We had an electric wringer washing machine and I liked to watch it work.

It was my job to help Mamamae hang out the laundry. I carried the cloth bag slung over my shoulder and would give her the clothes pins as she needed them. 

I was about 5 years old and I felt very "grown up" when we did the laundry.  I especially liked to watch  my grandmother use the wringer part of the washer. After the clothes were washed, she would wring them out and then "run them through the rollers to get all the excess water out.  I was given strict instructions to never- -ever touch the wringer on the machine.  

I wanted to use it so bad. I knew I could do it.  All I needed was something to wash.  I had a plan. As soon as Mamamae would go get the next load of clothes, I would drag the chair over to the machine and wash our dirty cat!!!

The cat had been asleep when I grabbed her up and threw her in the washer. It was a couple of seconds before she knew what was going on. Unfortunately, she woke up fast and wanted out of the tub bad.  I wanted to wash her some more and I really wanted to use the wringer on her tail.  I thought when she dried, she would look pretty and fluffy.  I thought wrong!! Sooo wrong!!!

I managed to get the tip of her tail in the wringer, just about the time, Mamamae heard the cat scream and me yelling at the cat to be quiet!! She came running, not knowing what to expect to find.

I can still see the shock on her face when she saw me trying to wring the cat's tail.  I was crying by now because I realized that the cat was in pain and I kept pulling on her tail to get it loose. The cat was scratching me up badly. Mamamae threw a blanket over the cat and pulled the plug on the machine and unwound the cat's tail. When she placed the cat on the floor, it ran out the back door and we never saw it again.  Chicken!!! It ditched me!! For good reason.


The cat left me with a very mad grandmother and a lot of bloody scratches.  Thank God for the scratches!!!!  I do believe my days may have been numbered that day if I had not been bleeding so much!!!! 


Every time Mamamae would start to remember how mad she was at me. I would cry and writhe in pain. It worked and I didn't get a spanking.

However, the cat never did come back home. I was sure she would eventually come home, apparently some cats hold grudges!!! I hope she didn't loose her tail. I really felt bad about what I did. It was just one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time, and turned into a disaster.


I lost my job of holding the clothes pins for a few weeks. No one would let me near the washer, and I was covered in scabs for about 10 days.  Just desserts I would say.  I hope the cat lived----fluffy tail and all.


Mamamae was a good, forgiving grandmother and soon I was helping her again.  The down side was I didn't get another cat for 3 years. I can honestly say she never once got a bath.


But I did get a dog----a little terrier named "Booger" and let me tell you, if that dog was alive and could talk-----I would be in sooo much trouble.  He had to wear doll clothes in the middle of July, while wrapped in a baby blanket and forced to lay in a doll buggy. Occasionally he had to take a bottle.He was my favorite "doll" for several years. He loved to share my treats and I loved to share his dog house. To his benefit, he out grew the doll clothes and the hot baby blanket. We had him for years and I loved him dearly.


Every Saturday, Booger ran away to the courthouse and someone would bring him home to me that afternoon. I always knew he was "politically minded".

When I drive by some home and I see clothes hanging on the line, blowing in the wind. I remember Mamamae.  I smile and try to remember how those clothes smelled years ago. Those were good days to be young and alive. I wouldn't trade these memories for anything. I would redo some things, but I cherish the great childhood I lived.