The Not-so-great Past
Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010
- Image via Wikipedia
By Nancy Werking Poling
author of Had Eve Come First and Jonah Been a Woman and
Out of the Pumpkin Shell
Now, I don’t want to embarrass a friend. For one thing, she’ll read this. For another, no one will confide in me if they fear ending up the subject of one of my blog postings.
But I can’t resist announcing to the world what I just learned: she still irons!
I’m all the time recalling how people used to treat each other with civility, how we encouraged our children to play outside, ride their bicycles around the neighborhood. All the time forgetting the unpleasantries of the past.
Like ironing. It was my responsibility to iron the items whose appearance didn’t much matter: my father’s workpants, sheets and pillowcases. And a few that did matter: my own skirts, blouses, and dresses. I ironed on the screened-in porch of our Orlando house, the radio tuned to the top songs of the day.
Something else my friend admitted: until recently (like within the past year) she sprinkled the clothes and put them in the refrigerator. But she has so many projects that sometimes mildew collected on the clothes before she got around to ironing them. Yes, in the refrigerator. That’s what my mother and I did too. A top fitting a Coke bottle had holes that released just the right amount of water. Dampening the clothes and keeping them refrigerated overnight made it easier to get the wrinkles out, made for sharper creases.
Nowadays, every now and then, I take out my table-top ironing board and steam iron. But not often. I doubt that my daughter even owns an iron. Anything needing ironing either goes to the cleaners or gets passed on to the Goodwill Store.
Meanwhile I use my grandmother’s old iron as a doorstop.


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