Wash Day Mondays

Splash! Through the dusty, grimy window of a mini-bus, I looked upstream of a small muddy creek as we crossed a bridge. To the left was the deceptively blue water of the Caribbean, but my attention was drawn by a ballet of sorts. It has a name, “battling clothes.”

The dancers were Haitian washer women standing waist-deep in water with no known name, waving clothing like flags and slapping them on boards.

The clothing would likely never be clean nor smell of laundry detergent, but at least they would no longer smell like their owners.

What jived up this memory was a walk through a big store and discovering a do-itall machine, a clothes washer and dryer in one unit.

Mondays were called “wash days” because that task used up the whole day and was all done by hand.

As a young teacher at Naomi School, my grandmother earned a bit less than five hundred dollars a year. That miracle washer/dryer would have used up her pay checks for nearly five years.

Her house had an addition called the “wash room.” Just outside was the well.

As a child I watched her fill galvanized wash tubs with water from the well and stir my grandfather’s white shirts in water heated in a cast iron wash pot over hardwood coals.

As soon as the clothes were washed, the next item in a wash tub was me.

I was a first grader when she was given a wringer washing machine by her grown children.

My grandfather, a life-long educator and song leader at Naomi Baptist Church, wore starched white shirts. The washing machine trimmed hours from her wash day.

Grandmother Phillips battled clothes on boards laid out on exposed roots of a giant sweet gum tree. My father said the scene was unchanged from his boyhood, and you can still stand inside the tree.

Water came from a flowing spring that has served the family since the early 1800’s.

The Phillips side was more self-sufficient. They made their soap and used it for dirty bodies, clothes and floors.

For longer than absolutely necessary, the Phillips scrubbed floors with mops made of corn shucks. For stubborn messes, they added river sand as an abrasive.

That miracle clothes washer/dryer could cut a wash day into “wash minutes.” The longest part of the task would be choosing the right buttons to push.

We’ve lost an appreciation for how our ancestors accomplished everyday tasks. I am fortunate to have seen some of it firsthand.

My great-grandsons will likely be amazed that you had to select the right button on the automatic washing machine, and there is no telling how things will have changed when they become adults.

joenphillips@yahoo.com