Saturday Secrets

Saturday Secrets

pencil sketch

10" x 15"

Virginia Field Park Calvert, Texas

Saturday morning. A quick breakfast of Rice Krispies, a banana, and fresh squeezed orange juice, or, my favorite, Pablum. Maybe toast, biscuits, bacon, eggs, ham, french toast, doughnuts, or whatever Mama fixed that day. Playing with the cats for a little while, arranging my dolls on my bed, dressing in girls bluejeans or shorts, then draping myself over the chair with the nailheads around the edges, to listen to "Buster Brown", "Jack Armstrong" and "Sky King" on the radio.

I rolled my bike that Daddy had bought from Jane, and I painted with a 10 cent can of enamel from Fink's Variety Store, out from the garage out back and into the front yard. "I'm going to the library," I shouted over my shoulder as I rolled the bike down the little hill in our front yard to the street. I rode around the streets outside the park to avoid the sand in the road inside the park, and on to the little library that had once been a club house for women. It was just like it had always been, from my grandmother's day.

I looked through the books for what seemed like hours and picked out a stack of books to take home for the week. I probably would never read all those books, but I had good intentions. During the school year, I also had all those books from school, plus those I checked out of the school library, and books that I had of my own to read.

I loaded my books into the basket of my bike and thought of how I would curl up in a chair, in front of the stove in the living room, in winter, or by a window in hot weather and read so many books. And I would also buy some comic books and movie magazines from the drugstore to read. And, I would spread out on the floor to read the funny papers from the newspaper and magazines. A lot of reading, but I think I did more dreaming than actual reading.

I rode up the gentle hill toward home. I pedaled my bike up the street, avoiding gravel on the side, and between the two large white rocks at the entrance to the park. I pushed my bike over the hard walk up to the old fashioned bandstand and leaned it against the steps while I walked over to the birdbath/drinking fountain for a cold drink of water. I never was sure it it was a birdbath, although that's what it looked like to me. I guess we humans had to share it with the birds! It did have steps on the sides for short people to stand on, and a couple of metal drinking faucets, so it would seem to be for people to drink from. But it was concrete and curved to hold water, which would have served the birds, too.

I looked into the large structure to see if anybody was there to talk to and play with, yet. No one was there, so I got on my bike and pedaled out the east side over the walk, past the clay tennis court and the huge glider swing. I walked my bike carefully as I crossed the drive way that surrounded the park. Spots of sand made walking difficult and could turn a car that was going too fast, completely around.

I passed Edie's house and the empty lots between us, and pushed the bike up the hill to my house, and left the bike on the small front porch. With my books parked safely on top of the chest of drawers, I still had a long time before dinner when Daddy would come home from the store to eat. I could have read one of those books, I guess, but, no. This was Saturday. No school! Time for friends, relaxing, and a good shoot-em-up at the Eloia followed by a trip to Taliaferro's Drug Store for an ice cream cone or Coke and reading the latest movie magazines and funny books.

Mama was busy in the kitchen, and I walked back over to the park. This was a good place to be with friends. Not so much fun, alone. It was kind of big, spooky, and overwhelming, for a kid alone. No telling what might be there. A spider, a snake, a monster or a ghost! Not to mention those weird horney toads and the big red ants that had some good sized beds in certain places in the park. We never thought that there could be anyone lurking in the park who might harm us.

"Are you going to the show this afternoon?" I met a friend from school inside the bandstand. Light reflected off the blue gray floor as I sat down on a bench beside her.

"I don't know. Is anyone else going?" She asked.

"Probably so, but I haven't talked to anyone. Do you know what's on?"

"I don't know. It's in the paper that they send out at the post office."

"Yeah, I know that. But I just wondered."

" Think there'll be any cute boys there? Or will it just be the dumb old boys from school?"

" You know that all the cute boys are somewhere else!" I laughed.

"Let's save our money and go on the bus to the Chatmas, and to Waco!"

"Okay. Think we can go?" I asked, thinking of our shopping trips to other places, but always with adults.

"Sure! I do it all the time!"

It was hard to believe, but other kids, all of whom were older than I was, did take the bus and go to Hearne or Bryan or Waco, to shop, eat, and go to a movie.

"Well, I have to go home and wash my hair before I can go to the show," I said. "And Daddy is going to be home for dinner soon."

"I've got to wash my hair, too." She walked to the edge of the wooden floor and down the steps. "I'll see you later at the show. I don't think that Tim Holt is on today. It may even be Tarzan, or the Three Stooges. Or, I think I saw that they are going to have Whip Wilson one Saturday."

We both doubled up with laughter. "Whip Wilson!" (That's what we called one of our algebra teachers/coaches. He seemed to be quick on the draw with his paddle for misbehaving kids. )

"Just so it isn't Victor Mature. Kathryn said he looks like someone just threw a bucket of slop in his face, and he does!"

Daddy's little coupe chugged and clattered past the park and I ran home to eat dinner.

The park was a nice place to spend time with friends. The bandstand, with its sturdy enameled floor. was a good place to get out of the sun or weather, away from the eyes of grownups, where secrets, hopes, and dreams could be shared. Towering Crepe Myrtles all around the sides of the park and beds filled with flowers, assured some privacy from passing cars, as well as neighbors. A basketball hoop on one of the posts provided a place for the boys to practice before we had a gym, or for the kids to come and try their skill at playing basketball, if they could find a basketball. The floor made a good roller rink and a place to settle in and play games like jacks. Benches provided a place for an audience where we could practice acting, singing, and dancing, or they might become seats in an airplane, a boat, a train, or whatever object we could imagine. The sides of the bandstand made a good place to hide from pirates or the bad guys while we played with our toy guns. Some were even brave enough to venture a little way under the bandstand to play house, complete with mudpies.

Last weekend was another Saturday, many years later. My sister and I descended on the park, not with our cap pistols or toy dishes, or jacks, or bikes, but with folding chairs, sketchbooks, and pens and pencils, and a cold drink. She picked a spot in the bandstand overlooking the west entrance, while I went to the opposite side, picked a bench to settle on , and looked out toward the school and our old neighborhood, the merry-go-round, and one of the two remaining small pavillions on the norhtheast corner.

After beginning our day with a kolache and a visit with Jody at Zamykal Kolaches, we spent the morning in the park, sketching the place where we spent a lot of time playing, when we were growing up. It was a hot day, but the bandstand provided us with a lot of shade, and there was a little breeze to cool us off.

I worked in pencil on a watercolor pad, while my sister used her sketchbook and a pen. I had thoughts of, at some time, painting my drawing later. I also chose to take some photos of where we were working. All the while, I was thinking of the things that we used to do in the park, and how it is still so much the same. A real comfort as so many people love that park, and have over the years. Our great-grandfather came over from Prussia the year before the park and the town became official.

I thought of the friends we knew and the events that took place in the park and I missed the cold water in the fountain, the great Crepe Myrtles around the park, the baseball field where almost nightly summer ball games were held, (and, in between, we brought out our bats and balls and had games of our own), the children's swings, the big white glider and the bench made from a plank that had been placed between two oak trees, years ago, the clay tennis court, the road around the park, and my sister noticed that even the concrete ping pong table is gone. It's still a nice place with so much potential.

As we sketched, two young girls came into the bandstand to exercise and enjoy each other's company. They laughed, giggled, and talked softly, ran up and down the steps a few times, then drank bottled water. (I thought how handy the drinking fountain would have been for them! After all, people come from cities just to drink some of that good Calvert water!) They sat on the benches, talking softly and I thought of young girls sharing their time and their secrets, over many years, there in the park. Eventually, they asked if I was through sketching the merry-go-round, and, when I told them I was, they wandered over to the playground area where they took a few spins around on the merry-go-round. Returning to the bandstand, they sat on benches opposite each other, to talk.

"Aha! There's some pictures!" I thought. Kids talking on a Saturday in the park, playing on the merry-go-round, and the way that it used to be. Saturdays used to seem so long and we did so much, with no rush. I placed the girls in my sketch, looking at them, but used the photo above to finish the placement of things like posts and dividers. I added in the baseball field, concession stand, and the little road around the park in the background. I thought of styles of the past and gave my girls pigtails and a pony tail.

I couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about. Was it anything like the conversations that we had? How much have the thoughts and feelings of the young girls changed from my grandmother's day to now?

I do suspect that they were not talking about going to the Saturday afternoon picture show at the Eloia, since it is not operatong. And I do know that it was refreshing to see such nice, respectful young ladies. I don't know who they are, but it gave me a little scarey thought for a story. They walked away toward the cemetery across the street. Now there's an idea for a story. I think I have watched ghost programs with my daughter, too much!

I have more pictures that I took during our last Saturday sketch crawl to share, and some more sketches that I have been doing.

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Speaking of Calvert, they are looking forward to the big Victorian Tea and Gala with a Street Fair Octobler 4. Jody Powers told me that they are still looking for vendors for the street fair. They have a lot of things lined up, but they need more vendors. So, if you like to sell your wares that can be considered Victorian , look at their website for more information, or contact Jody at Zamykal Kolache Shop in Calvert. If you make aprons, quilts, make jewelry, paint, demonstrate how to do something, have a civic group that would like to participate, or whatever it is that you do, get in touch with her. I have a link to her shop in my sidebar, or, you could just call her. There is also an online application. I do believe that they want everyone to dress in Victorian attire. It isn't require of people attending, but it is encouraged, if you would like to dress up.

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Did you see "On The Road" on KBTX tv Thursday? If not, you can go to their website and take a look at the video. They reported on the news from Robertson County as part of their "On The Road" weekly series. They had to pack up early, though, because rain with thunder and lightning were coming. It was an interesting segment.

If you missed it, you can go to the KBTX website and, on the right, there is a place to click to see "On The Road" for the previous weeks. The segment on Robertson County, included quite a bit about Calvert. They don't have the whole program online, but do show Hammond House, Jody in costume showing fan ettiquette, and taught one of the anchors how to waltz, the old Calvert Hotel, the cemetery, and some of the stores downtown. I wish they would have left in the part where Jody is in her shop, talking and singing.

One thing that was not correct was that children have never lived in the Calvert Hotel. The Dirr family, who originally owned the hotel, had children and grandchildren living there. I practically lived there, myself when my cousins were at their grandmother's hotel. That made such a great place to play!

Another thing that I noticed was that the front of the buildings on Main Street were actually the back, by the railroad. They did load freight from the trains through there and had entrances at the back, but the fronts were where they are now, on Main Street. I have pictures from the early days, and there are the Sanford Fire Insurance Maps. Main Street once had cisterns and water wells in the middle, but the street was very wide allowing big wagons with teams to turn around easily. There was also another track that ran behind the buildings on the west side of the street, and freight was loaded from there. When I was young, there were still tracks visible in the street where little spurs were built on the side streets to busy stores . There were also tracks by the Fagan house. I was told those were trolley tracks. Calvert had a trolley while Dallas and Ft. Worth were not much more than an Army outpost.

Calvert was said to have been almost wiped out by the Yellow Fever Epidemic. About half the population died and left a population of 2,5oo, which is what it was still, all the years that I was growing up. They could never know how many died exactly because people were being buried day and night. I'm sure that they missed where some people were actually buried. But, they did make sure to bury people with the fever at an angle so that no one would ever try to dig them up and release whatever caused the epidemic into the atmosphere to make more people sick. They didn't know what caused it. Even doctors died. There probably is some record from the City Cemetery of most of the people in that one cemetery. But, apparently, records were not kept for some other burial places.

My great-grandfather had a "Chinaman" working for him in his cobbler shop. The man was among those who died. None of my family caught it, though. What a scarey time that was!

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Tonight is the Scottish Invasion with events in Dallas Ft. Worth, and Houston, that I know of.

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We lost another of our schoolmates this week. Linda was the prettiest little girl, and the prettiest and sweetest lady when she grew up! She worked so hard in her chosen career and was devoted to her family. It was so nice to talk to her and to have her fix my hair. I know that she is going to be greatly missed.

Here is a sketch of an angel for Linda. I tried it in watercolors, but I'm not happy with it. Wrong kind of paper, I think. I'll have to try it again.

Walking Home From The Picture Show

My Calvert Photos

These were taken from where we set up to sketch and paint

For some reason, I couldn't get these vertical pictures to post on the slide show below. I turned the camera to take them, then rotated them after I saved them in My Pictures. However, each time I tried to add them on the slide show, they turned back sideways, and I couldn't find out how to straighten them out. So, I'm adding these separately.

We set up on the sidewalk beside the Masonic Lodge, out of the crisp wind that was whipping around that Saturday. The top photo shows across the side street, to the south. The bottom photo shows what was behind me.

I can remember a lot about what the street, curb, and even the railroad tracks looked like, as I walked from the school, to my house, and town, and back, it seemed like, almost every day while I was growing up. Every place the street dipped, every place there was gravel or where there was sand, where there were red ant beds to avoid, where you had to walk quickly to get out of the hot sun on a summer day and on to the next shady spot where oak trees hung over the street. I remember where puddles were made when it rained, where there were cracks in the curbing, and where there were sticker burrs to avoid. There were good spots for roller skating or bike riding, and other spots where the sand or gravel would throw you over. Where there might be wildflowers or where the lawns were neatly edged at the curb.

I remember which houses belonged to friendly folks and which ones were to be avoided. I remember houses that used to be, but are now gone, replaced with a modern house, or an empty lot.

As I looked across the street where we painted that Saturday, I thought of the way that it used to be. How some things have always been pretty much the same, like the streets, the railroad and its ditches, and some buildings. You can still see the old brick that is beneath the asphalt on Main Street, which is Highway 6. I remember when they put the asphalt over the brick, which was just heart breaking to many. I've felt sure that I can remember when the streets were still dirt, but that can't be. I wasn't born then!

The outcropping that holds the street light, where Uncle Tom always parked his car is still there, with the scrapes in the concrete where he always hit the base as he parked. But the lights are new. Uncle Tom bought the old one when the city replaced them, and put the light in his yard.

The steps that lead up to the sidewalks are still there, some with the "new" railings that were put up "for the older folks". Some of the original overhangs that covered the sidewalks are still there. Most buildings used to have them, with canvas curtains, that rolled down on the sides. That made like a tunnel to walk through along the sidewalks. Stores on the west side pulled them down when the sun was in the east, while stores on the east side pulled the curtains down when the sun was in the west. In hot weather, when the crowds were in town on Saturday, especially, it was like a steam bath along the sidewalks.

I guess I looked down, when I was walking more than looking down the street to where I was going. And I had plenty of scraped knees to make me remember certain spots in the street, after I fell down on my bike or roller skates and had to have Mama pick gravel out of the wounds with the tweezers. Hot pavement was a reminder about where not to linger in hot weather. And I walked with wet, muddy socks and shoes, after trying to get across a wide puddle in winter, enough to remember that soggy, cold feeling, and the squishing sound as I walked until I could get home and change clothes.

I remember when people could just pull their cars in and park along Main Street, and when they made people change to parallel parking. Uncle Tom had hit that concrete with his car even when he could just pull in. It was worse after parallel parking. No one wanted to have to go through that, but the Highway Department wanted to make the street wider with more lanes, so the rules were changed. I never did master parallel parking. Instead, I tried to park on the side street, if I could. Well, I could park, but I sweated bullets trying to do it!

In the top photo, with the white building on the corner, this building was not there when I was growing up. There was a vacant lot there, which we used to cut across if we were coming or going to the picture show down this street. This street ended at the park entrance, but I lived the next street over. The Methodist church was on this street, so, sometimes, while Mama practiced the organ or they had choir practice, I would walk to town or the store. It was also good to have the park as a stopping place to rest or get a drink of water from the fountain during our long journey.

My cousins, Diana and Joan, lived at the Calvert Hotel with their grandmother and their mother during WWII, while their father was in service. And they visited there often in other years. So, the hotel was another place that I grew up playing around, and was a place to stop by on my way to or from the picture show. Like other kids, my cousins were quite creative and were always doing something interesting. So that was one of my favorite places to go.

I think that there had been a building on the corner where the white building is now, but it burned before I can remember. When I was older, Mr. Allen built the building that is there now and had a nice Western Auto Store .

The building next to it, where the sign is hanging down over the sidewalk, was a different Allen's hardware store. And, the next white building is the Eloia, the picture show. There used to be a long, rounded neon sign outside that said Eloia. I don't see that in this photo.

Next door to the Eloia is a two story antique shop, the Boll Weevil, which I remember as a bank. I don't think you can see the rest of the buildings in the block from this picture.

In the picture below, you can see where the steps to the Masonic Lodge are, at the end of this building. The Masons made a really nice spot on a covered concrete slab where they have barbeque for special events, like the homes tour.

Just across the railroad tracks, you can see the Calvert Hotel. The street that goes on beyond that is the one that ends at Virginia Field Park entrance.

I was just thinking about the paths we took and wondered why we went some of those ways.

Across the empty space where the Western Auto store was built, was a path that was a bit of a shortcut to the railroad tracks. I seem to remember some twisted, rusty tin and old wood there, too. But, I wondered why we didn't walk on the sidewalk beside the Masonic Lodge, especially when our store was just across the highway. When we crossed Main Street, we always walked on the side of the street beside the empty lot. Maybe there was something mysterious about the Masonic Lodge, with its dark green shuttered windows. And how we always heard that what they did there was secret. It was kind of spooky, I guess. Grownups went there, and told us that things were secret. And while my family members were Masons and Eastern Star, I didn't question. I just knew that was someplace I wasn't supposed to go. But, since there was a well worn path on the empty lot, maybe others thought the same thing.

There were various stores below the Masonic Lodge, at different times, so that should have made it less scarey. Maybe they were not kid friendly places, or maybe it just seemed dark in the shadows.

At one time, there was a Delaware Punch bottling company in the building below, and we would go in there to see how they bottled the drink. The manager and his family went to our church and his daughter was my age. That was one time when the lower part of the building seemed open, light, and happy. I didn't have much experience in going into the building when they had a grocery store or furniture store there. The grownups bought the furniture, and had grocery stores, so there was no need for me, as a child to go there.

Now that Delaware Punch bottling company was a different story. They even brought some of the bottle drinks to church functions like family night suppers.

Wouldn't it be nice if memories remained clear. And if we had taken pictures, and labeled them, about all the little things that were a part of our lives.

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I'm enjoying the blogs of Myrna Wacknov and Nancy Standlee. Nancy is attending Myrna's workshop this week in Cedar Hill. I know they are creating up a storm! I'm just about jealous and wish I was there with them.

Also, check out Virginia Vaughan's blog and website. Her "Last Year On The Farm" exhibit is opening in Rockport and she is doing some demonstrating and a mini workshop there Saturday. You can see more information on her blog.

Get Ready to have a great weekend!

Blue Monday

Blue Monday
Wash Day
8.5" x 11"
pencil

Don't forget to watch "On The Record" tonight (Monday) on Fox news, 9p.m. central time, 10 p.m. eastern time. Greta Van Susteran is having a special on breast cancer and her trip with First Lady Laura Bush to the Middle East where Mrs. Bush was trying to create more awareness about breast cancer.
http://www.gretawire.com/
Read Greta's blog for more information and wonderful pictures and videos she took on the trip. I feel like I was with them!

Scroll down to my last slide show to see the latest watercolor I added about the space station and space shuttle flyover.

I thought that Blue Monday was called that because of the blueing that was used in the wash water with white things to make them look whiter. I didn't know that it might have been because of the sad idea of having to start another long week at work, or the daily grind of housework, or even of a rainy Monday that might make some people feel blue or depressed.
Monday was wash day, all over town, not just at our house. Tuesday, was ironing day; Wednesday was heavy cleaning such as mopping and waxing floors, taking blinds down and washing them in the bathtub, with the afternoon reserved for Bible study groups or some sort of get-together. At night, the Baptists had church.
Thursday was a day for lighter cleaning, sewing, patching, darning and, in the afternoon, the ladies would gather for their sewing circle or, during the War, for the Red Cross Sewing Circle. There they might knit socks or sweaters for service men, or roll bandages.
I can remember meeting on the sidewalk beside the bank and in front of Mack Remberdts Furniture Store with the ladies. I wandered around, while my mother and the ladies rolled bandages, sitting on the wide step in front of the building. When weather was bad, we would either meet inside, courtesy of Jessie Marie, or at Mrs. Wyser's house. I guess we had to stay out of the way of potential customers, or couldn't go in when the owner of the store was around. I'm not sure about that, since I was a kid and more interested in the patterns of the bricks and why they were not level in some places, and the metal in the steps and the decorative panels in front of the building.
Friday was yard work and finishing up the school week with the big football game on Wilkerson Field that night. There was always a big crowd for that, while a lot of the ladies stayed at home and listened to the radio. You could just open the windows and hear the game being announced over a large portion of the town. This was also the day of the big auction at the Auction Barn, with a lot of people going to the cafe there for lunch.
Saturday was the big downtown business day. Maybe some more yard work. Movies and the drugstore for the kids. A trip to the Katy Hamman Stricker Library in the morning, along with radio programs beginning with "Buster Brown", then "Jack Armstrong", "Sky King" and others, until time to walk or ride the bike to the library. Choir practice, and, for my mother, organ practice, was on Saturday afternoon. This was also the day to wash and dry hair. Saturday night was radio while baths were taken and Sunday dinner was started. Daddy always had to work late, as the stores were open until people quit buying, getting ready for church, and the next week.
Sunday morning was Sunday School and Church. For our family, it was Sneed Memorial Methodist Church. The family gathered at one home for Sunday dinner, depending on who wanted to be the host that week. Sometimes, especially if there was illness in the family among the women who had to do all the work, we would go to the White Hotel or the Calvert Hotel for a big family style Sunday dinner in the large dining rooms.
After dinner, and a nap, the men went out to check cattle in their pastures, then we all went for a ride. Then there was supper, often of Red Roast and Red Gravy sandwiches on toast, and we could eat a stack of those! Sure were good. We would eat until we were about to pop, and still wanted more! Then there were Sunday night radio programs. I liked to go over to Edie's house and listen to her big floor model radio in the living room. We could sprawl on the floor and get lost in the happenings on the programs.
Then it was back to Monday, and washing all those clothes we had worn all week!
In my drawing above, I have shown the clothesline in our back yard, which began at the corner of the garage, and stretched across part of the yard to where my dad built a tin roofed shed. Behind the clothesline, you can see the fence which he used to enclose the horse pen, for our horse, Flicka. The trees behind the horse pen separated our yard from the next yard, where you can see a bit of the roof sticking up of the wooden house behind us. The shaded area shows Mud Creek Mountains. Not really mountains, but hills that ran along Mud Creek south of town, separating us from the next town 7 miles away. We could see train lights coming over that hill into town, and, during War years, we could see the search lights during air raids. They were coming from the next town which we thought might be a target due to oil storage tanks and rail lines, as well as the POW camp.
My mother was dressed in her dress, with fairly nice shoes on, while she hung out clothes. Bertie, our helper, wore boots, that hung open at the top, cotton stockings, loose skirt and blouse, a jacket with sleeves, and a sunbonnet. Sometimes, she wore a scarf wrapped around her head. And, of course, she had her dip of snuff in her lip. In the picture, she is mashing the clothes with a broom handle. My sister and I liked to play in the billowing sheets, so I have shown her crouched on the inside of a sheet, with me pushing through the sheet from the outside. She is following Poochie, our dog, who also liked to play wherever we were playing.
Clothes are boiling in an iron wash pot over a fire, fairly far from the house. There are buckets for carrying water from the house to the wash pot. A rub board and a bar of lye soap are on the ground. There is also a box of detergent used in washing the clothes. (One concession to modern times. But, they still thought that clothes were not clean unless you used some lye soap too.)
The heavy pot would have to be emptied and refilled as the water became too dirty, and between the soap and rinse steps.
Prior to this stage of wash day, Bertie and my mother spent time in the kitchen, by the back door, sorting clothes, then washing them in the kitchen sink, with a rub board. Dainty things, like ladies unmentionables, would be first, and those things were hung in the bathroom on the shower rod, where the neighbors' eyes couldn't see them. Those might be done in the bathroom sink as needed, rather than waiting until Monday. Delicate scarves and blouses were next. Heavier, and more soiled things came later. A little blueing was added to the water of white things to make them sparkling white. Starch was boiled on the stove and added to shirts, pinafores, some blouses, tablecloths and napkins, and anything that had to hold its shape and look smooth. Clorox was added to white things that needed bleaching.
The wet wash had to be hung on the clothesline to dry, with wooden clothespins that remained on the line, ready for next week's wash. Rich people might have a canvas bag to keep their clothespins in, and take those into the house after the wash was dry. Our's stayed in place, and the same pieces could be hung there the next week. Sometimes they would break off, which meant doubling up on the pins for the next piece of laundry. It was, for some reason, exciting when a new package of clothes pins would be brought home and placed on the line. The kids wanted to be the ones to put the pins on the line! Simple pleasures. I guess it was tactile and had to do with the feel of the spring and the new wood.
It was a big setback if one of the posts holding the clothesline would break or fall over, and all the clothes fell in the dirt and grass and had to be rewashed. Daddy liked to use wooden posts, or even a plank to prop up the line if we had something heavy like quilts drying. After I was grown, he had someone make some metal posts, which were much sturdier and long lasting. But, I could tell that he didn't really like giving up those wood posts. Mama was happy to get any convenience.
It was heavy work, with a lot of carrying from the house to the back of our yard, and, sometimes it didn't all get done in one day. But, most of the time it did, and things were ready to do all the ironing the next day.
Bertie didn't help us full time. Daddy didn't make that much money, and he was very conservative with his money, anyway. But, on Monday and Tuesday, and, sometimes other days, he would get Bertie to come help out. Some of the homes had regular help, and some, just occasionally.
Bertie was like another one of my mothers, I thought. I always asked her, on wash day especially, when we would play outside, if she would bring one of her children to come play with me. She would just laugh, and I would continue to beg. I don't think she ever did bring one of her children to play while she worked.
Daddy finally bought Mama a front loading washing machine when I was in high school. He put it on the concrete slab outside the back door, where he planned to build another room, a den, onto the house, eventually. Bit by bit. He ran the hose out in the yard to a pear tree, which was also our pet cemetery. During times of drought, he would move the hose around to water some of the trees in the back yard. Mama argued that the hot water was going to kill her trees, but I guess the soap made the trees flourish. That tree had some wonderful pears!
Work was heavy, meals had to be ready on time, children had to be cared for, social and community obligations had to be met. It all had to be done daily, on a schedule, throughout town. The fire whislte blew at noon and at 6 in the evening, so everyone knew to go eat dinner or supper. You could tell the time by the trains that went through town, every 15 minutes.
My great aunt, across the street, had her laundry picked up on her front porch by a laundry and cleaners who came to town each week. She worked hard, and sometimes helped at her husband's store, and her husband wanted her to have that luxury of not having to wash in the back yard. That was fun to play around in the sheets as she prepared them to be wrapped up in one big sheet, and set, like a big bag with ears, on her front porch.
I'm so glad that we have washers and dryers in our homes, now! I don't think I could make it even through one load of clothes like my mother did every week! I have washed clothes in the bathtub and the sink, in a portable washing machine, and lugged things back and forth to the laundromat. I even did the rub board in the sink at my mother's house when my son was small. I thought it was just a step up from a rock in the river!
Hope your laundry is done, and that this is not a Blue Monday for you! My laundry is still going, but, at least, I can do other things while the machine does the hard work!

Greta Van Susteran asked those of us who read her blog and her viewers to spread the word about her special on breast cancer tonight. So, I'm inviting you! Hope you get to watch. If not on tv, maybe you can find something about it online. There was a tv program about breast cancer on Channel 13 out of Houston last week. They had a lot about Baylor Hospital in Houston on that program. That might be online, too.
One question in the blog was whether or not people thought that mamograms should be free. That raised the question about what would happen if something was found and treatment needed. Who would pay for that? And what about other illnesses and diseases? A whole flood of thoughts and questions. Of course, I can't help but wonder about the issues that I struggle with, like treatment for Macular Degeneration, cataracts, knee replacement, medication, visits to doctors, and the healthcare that we all need.
Look at Creative Journey blog, when you get a chance. I like her idea of a weekly challenge, not to mention the creative projects and art work that she is showing. Very interesting. Check it out when you get a chance.
Also, look at Nancy Standlee's blog. She has some very appealing work and ideas, too. You can find a link to her in the sidebar of my blog.
Virginia Vaughan is another busy artist, with some very nice work. Be sure to check out her blog, too. She is painting, "the last", as she winds up her Last Year on the Farm.
Let me know if you see something that appeals to you. Thanks for your comments and your support, and for sharing this with others.