Mom's Ironing Meditation

“Tis a curiosity that so many aspects of daily life in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s have dropped off the radar. This in the midst of contemporary life with so many time-saving advances. And amidst continual whining that we don’t have time for anything these days.

Recently I dug out a worn, comfy sweatshirt I like wearing around the house in the wintertime. It’s bulky enough to be warm but it’s also non-binding. The sleeves are not in the way when down yet stay up when I need to drop my body thermostat a notch or 10.

It was more wadded up than folded in the cedar chest, so to get rid of the wrinkles - quickly of course, I headed to the dryer. (I have a couple of sweatshirts that aren’t quite as old that don’t wrinkle. Are we harvesting a modified non-wrinkle cotton these days)?

So to don the smooth pullover when I finished putting on and tying my shoes, I went to the laundry room to spray it and toss it in the dryer. A common practice, right? But wait! The spray bottle was in another room - used for modifying the behavior of a stubborn kitten. The kitchen being between the laundry room and the training ground, I detoured to the sink and sprinkled a bit of water on the item.

That’s when it happened - a series of images marched through my mind from my growing-up years. It was a summer Saturday afternoon. Mom’s hair was freshly washed and fastened into pin curls with bobby pins galore. A scarf of sorts was tied around her head to hold everything in place - covering her ears and sporting a bow on top. The radio was playing lots of tunes she sang and hummed to.

The mental slideshow continued. Mom carried a basket of clothes to the kitchen sink and sprinkled water over each piece before wrapping them in plastic that came from the dry cleaners and placing them in the fridge.

Brother, sister and I then had her attention. Baby sister got a bath and was put in her crib for a nap. Brother and I took our baths in turn, motivated to keep quiet so we could build a fort between our beds rather than have to take a nap, too.

Then mom set up the ironing board and turned on the iron. She took the bag from the fridge and placed it in the basket now sitting just under the pointed end of the ironing board. As she ironed, she would hang the items in their respective closets.

By the time the clothes were freshly pressed, it was time to get ready for supper and dad’s arrival home from work. Saturday night TV and soda and popcorn afterward.

I think mom enjoyed her ironing time.