MY FAVORITE FEISTY MOM MOMENT

Tammy wrote such a touching story about her grandmother, my mom. She was petite, a mere 5 feet tall, which is taller than I am at 4'9 ( I have shrunk from my 4'11 as I have gotten older. Part of this is due to a curvature of the spine.

It was actually mom's best friend who told my dad that mom was younger than she was, & I guess because she liked my dad stuck to the story. She was always young for her age, & growing up I thought she was 10 years younger. I learned her true age from my Uncle Chris.

Though she was tiny, she was not one to let someone take advantage of her. Now all you young gals do not know just how difficult washing clothes used to be. It was a long time before we ever had a Washing Machine, & I'm not talking about the ones we have now. Our first one was a Maytag with a wringer that you turned a handle & ran the clothes through, being careful not to run your fingers through at the same time. My sister & I were not allowed to touch it since mom was afraid we would just that.

When this incident occured it was during the old washtub & scrub board era. Our mode of drying clothes was on the clothes line outside in the fresh air & they were fastened with clothes pins to the line. I think mom may have had a wringer that she attached to the tub, or she may have rung them by hand, twisting the sheets etc. to get as much water out before she hung them up. I remember seeing her do this.

Clothes lines were stretched between two wooden clothes poles. We were renting this house & I beleive it was the house on Alger Street in Freemont, Ohio.
One of the clothes poles had broken, & really needed to be replaced. Mama had told the Landlord who showed up at the house & proceeded to nail a much too thin piece of wood to the top of the broken pole. I don't remember, but I'm sure mom told him it would not work, but being the tight fisted man he was, insisted it would.

The clothes were washed & hung up to dry above the muddy ground , as it had rained. The inevitable happened, all moms hard work came to naught as the clothes came tumbling down into the mud.

I don't think I have ever seen mom so angry, & with my sister & I clinging to each hand & trying with our short little legs to keep up with our furious mother, we went over to visit the Landlord. Like my daughter said she cried as she gave him a piece of her mind. A very meek Landlord replaced the pole. Of course the damage was done & mom had to rewash all of the clothes again to be hung up once more on a now sturdier clothes line.

I love my dryer, but I can't help but feel a little nostalgic at times when I think of how sweet smelling the clothes were, after hanging outside in the sunshine.

Clothes lines held their own stories. At some, one would see white square cloth diapers, denoting the arrival of a new member of the family. No disposables for my generation. One could almost tell who lived at a house by seeing what was hung out on the washline.

Though those years were difficult, I never heard mama complain. She gave me a wonderful example to follow as to the kind of person a mom should be. She was strict but tried to be fair. I can't really remember her getting that angry at anyone else except that Landlord & he deserved every word of her tongue lashing.