Other women on Walnut Ridge probably worked very hard, but I
know Mom did. Being a farm wife with four kids managed to fill her days.
Mom was often the first up in the mornings. In the cold
times, the wood stoves would have to be brought back to life, a water kettle
placed on it, and then it was time to prepare breakfast. In my early years, we
cooked with a wood stove that had fire on one end and a big container for water
on the other. She was so adept at selecting the
right kindling and getting the fire started.
Mom was a master at cranking out the breakfast of bacon,
eggs, gravy, and biscuits with a pot of coffee for us all. She did that every
day. I really am amazed with her skills every time I try to simultaneously cook
bacon and eggs.
The two other meals consisted of sliced bread, chicken or
pork, some type of beans, fried potatoes, and potatoes. Even after eighteen
years on the farm, I never got tired of those meals.
When we got electricity (when I was about 5 years old), Dad
got her a Frigidaire electric range for Christmas. I think that was the best
gift he ever gave her. I remember her hugging him with tears running down her
cheeks.
Mom also worked in the tomato fields. For dinner and supper,
she would leave the field an hour earlier than us, fix the food, grab a bite,
clean up the kitchen, do the dishes, and return to the fields.
Other times, she would prepare dinner, put it in a big dish
pan covered with a towel, and carry it to us in the fields (sometimes QUITE a
walk). It was always a welcome site to see her enter the field with that
scrumptious food.
Our two story wood frame home helped fill her spare time.
Our linoleum floors were mopped and waxed until the designs were worn off, but
she kept them shiny. When I was about eight years old, Dad ‘wheeled and dealed’
with Reiz Furniture to install carpet in our living room. A ‘lost’ salesman
talked us into a Regina vacuum cleaner that lasted until long after I left the
farm.
The rule in Indiana is that ‘Monday is wash day’. Another is
that it rains every Monday. Initially, she used a round tub and wash board. My sisters
would grab the wet clothes and do all kinds of gyrations to wring the water out
of them before they were hung on the wire clothes line running along the house.
The excess (usually the boys’ jeans) were carefully placed on the bushes. This
was quite a job anytime, but winters made it brutal. It is really hard to fold
frozen Oshkosh overalls.
Mom really moved up when we got a kerosene-burning motor driven Maytag wringer washer:
She didn’t seem to mind the 25 stomps on the pedal to get it
started. I remember her periodic screams when the clothes wrapped around the
wringers. Washing was definitely a team sport that took Mom and both of my
sisters.
In addition, the smoke from the kerosene motor wiped out all of the mosquitos in
Jefferson Township. Unhooking the drain hose and getting the water into the
bucket was quite an art (more mopping and waxing).
Upgrading to the modern electric Maytag wringer washer was
another major event for Mom. Yet, she still didn’t seem to enjoy wash day.
“Tuesdays are iron days”. Mom thought that EVERYTHING must
be ironed after it was washed – even socks and underwear. Before electricity
(BE), these iron wedges would be heated on the stove and swapped periodically. After
electricity, the two heat (ON and OFF) electric iron made it so much better. A
later adjustable iron (WITH STEAM) put us in the upper class.
We had a LOT of windows in that house. They all had two
strips of vertical fabric of various designs with a white lace insert. Mom was
compulsive about keeping them white. She cycled through each room, washed the
lace in bleached water, and THEN installed them on ‘curtain stretchers. This
wooden contraption had a million vicious nails that hated fingers. I offered to
help Mom once.
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