When I open the lid on my automatic washer and pull out clean, wet laundry to put into the dryer, I often think of how lucky I am. That’s because I remember how my mom and I did laundry in the 1950s.
It is difficult now to even comprehend spending three to four hours every Saturday in our basement doing the family laundry using a wringer washing machine. It was a Maytag with electric agitator and wringer (meaning we didn’t have to turn a crank) and we had two separate rinse tubs, one for hot and one for cold rinses. The tubs were on wheels so we could roll them to the faucet in the basement to fill with hot or cold water.
The process involved putting a load of laundry into the agitator washer, switching it on and letting the agitator do its rotating back and forth for a while until mom decided the clothes were clean. She had a big chunk of homemade lye soap she used to rub on any stubborn stains before they went into the washer. After washing, each article of clothing was pulled out one-by-one and put through the wringer to squeeze the water out. It would exit on the other side and drop into the hot rinse tub. Now the clothes had to be swished around to rinse the soap out, using either my hands or a heavy stick, depending on how hot the water was.
After mom got the next load of laundry started in the washer, we would swing the wringer to the next tub so we could put each piece of laundry through the wringer into the cold rinse tub. After I swished the clothes around in the cold water for a while, each item was put into the wringer again to exit and fall into the laundry basket. Each separate item of clothing was handled at least three times to finally arrive in the basket and be carried upstairs and outside to be hung up on the clothesline. Are we having fun yet?
And oh, before I could hang the clothes on the line, I took a wet cloth and cleaned the wire clotheslines first, walking up and down the lines wiping off dirt and bird droppings. Carrying a bag of clothes pins, I picked up each item from the laundry basket and shook it a few times, then clipped it to the wire to dry in the Kansas sun and wind.
If it was snowing or raining, we had lines in the basement where we hung the clothes. If we were lucky, we would only have three loads of laundry to wash. Sheets and blankets and towels meant extra work. This was our Saturday routine from my grade school years until I was a junior in high school in 1959. In my 16-year-old mind, I felt like we must be the last people on earth still using a wringer washer.
My parents finally bought a matching Maytag automatic washer and dryer. My mom picked out a beautiful light pink color for the appliances and they were installed upstairs, in our utility room right off the kitchen. They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Now I could watch TV while Maytag did the washing and drying. How I loved those two machines. We could do laundry on a Tuesday or a Friday or even a Sunday night.
My mom and I had our Saturdays back and life was good. That’s while I feel lucky when I do laundry today.
Diana Wolfe is a former board member of The Active Age. Contact her at dcwolfe2000@yahoo.com.
