By Laurie Snider
Notes From The Nest
The dappled sunlight is peeking between gaps in the foliage, in our backyard, on this perfect summery day. The air is hot and dry, and a mild breeze is gently swaying the freshly cleaned laundry as it performs its rhythmic dance on my clothesline. As Mom would say, “It’s a perfect drying day!” I love hanging laundry on the line, later reeling in clothing, sheets and towels air dried and ripe with the intoxicating smell of clean air and sunshine.
This is one domestic chore I’m quite fond of. Plucking up each dampened item, pinning it to the long line with wooden clips and listening to the creak as I roll them on down the line has a kind of meditative quality to it. This got me to thinking about how this unending task was completed, in previous generations.
In Roman times, laundry was a man’s responsibility. Wool was the fabric of choice and was washed in large vats, where the men would stamp and trod on it. After it dried, the fabric was brushed with the skin of hedgehogs or thistles to raise the nap.
Waterways were popular for washing clothes in Europe and by North American settlers. The flowing water would wash away the stains and smells. Wooden implements called washing beetles or bats were used against a stone to essentially beat the clothes into submission to release the dirt and grime. By this point, laundry was a community event and clearly considered ‘women’s work.’ Women would gather at the local washhouses to meet up, discuss issues of the day or simply chat. “To do the laundry,” meant getting together to gossip.
The first washing machine was invented in Great Britain in 1782. Washboards appeared around that time as well. Early washing machines in the mid 19th century were hand powered, involving cranking a handle to move paddles in a tub. In the 1860s a wringer (aka a mangle) was added, squeezing the clothing between the two heavy rollers to express the excess water. Of course there are many harrowing tales associated with these washers. ‘Mangle’ was probably the proper term as fingers, hands, arms and hair were often victims.
The first electric washing machines were introduced in early 1900, the design not yet perfected. The motor wasn’t separated from the machine and water splashes were common, resulting in shorts and rather nasty shocks! My great-uncle Roly worked at Beatty Bros. in Fergus Ont., the company responsible for producing the first agitator machines in Canada. Maytag was the first American company to do so.
My Mom was raised in Cambray, Ont., and her home had no indoor plumbing until the 1950s. Water was pumped from the cistern and warmed in the reservoir on the side of the stove. The wringer washer was filled using pails, then the laundry was swished about. Mom says this was why it was important to do the whites first as the water got progressively dirtier. Giant tongs were used to pull the clothes out before being sent through the wringer. Next, they were plopped into a galvanized washtub full of water for rinsing before their second pass through the wringer and then onto the line to dry. My goodness, what a process!
After marrying, my siblings and I and our oodles of diapers arrived and she continued using her wringer. She tells a funny tale of one cold, January day looking out our kitchen window and seeing an enormous, white rectangle marching across the field towards our home. Apparently one of her sheets, perfectly frozen, had taken flight and was merrily tumbling down Liberty Street. A kind gentleman wrestled it down and was returning it. Shortly afterwards they bought their first dryer. Mom says, “ I thought I’d died and gone to heaven!”
One hundred years seems like a blip in history, it’s phenomenal how much things have changed. It’s hard now to imagine just how much work was involved in doing the laundry. Now, it’s simply sorted and shoved into a machine with a capful of synthetic soap and beeps to let me know when it’s finished. Then it’s tossed into the dryer and is ready to be folded and put back in the drawer, all in under two hours. There are no bruised knuckles, rubbed raw from beating it on rocks, no squished fingers getting caught between rollers, no electric shocks and no skinning hedgehogs to fluff up my woolens. I’m able to choose, depending on weather, energy and time, whether to hang out our clothing or not. I’m in awe of how hard previous generations worked, to complete this necessary task. It gives me an appreciation for all that I have and it’s a good reminder to say thank you and never take it for granted!