From the corner of the house to the garage, across the driveway to the back porch, back to the other side of the garage and back to the other porch post. Monday's wash lines were strung all across the backyard. Clothes poles and clothes pins waited for the white sheets and t-shirts to come up from the basement. Backyards were decorated with white clothes lines. First the whites, and then the colored clothes would start appearing in the afternoons. Dad's work clothes were always given a few extra minutes in the washing machine. The machine unplugged, they were left to soak in the washing machine warm water with a bar of his homemade soap .
Mom took her nap while dad's work clothes soaked. Two full loads of laundry were first hung out for drying before the nap. Us kids had orders to play quietly, no yelling, no fighting, no game of " Red light/Green light ". My sister and I did a lot of fighting back then. Mom's warnings seemed more serious on wash days. The other six days we were more likely to go at it, and always felt free to call on Mom, blaming the other for the disagreement.
Under the back porch with my cowboys was my quiet place, the front porch was my sister's quiet place. Being too quiet wasn't good either. Mom would call to us to make sure one of us hadn't murdered the other.
One hot wash day a cool breeze set the curtains fluttering and mom came out the backdoor calling for me to get the clothes basket. Black clouds were rolling in from the west. Our next door neighbor, Mrs. Koos, was already pulling down Mr. Koos' pink long johns, letting the clothes pins fly as she quickly gathered in her wash. Go tell Mrs. Clemen it is going to rain, directing me to cut through Mrs. Mathew's yard. Air-raid sirens sounded as every lady on our block was getting their wash down and in their houses. Mom stopped for a second to look at our big elm trees in the front of our house, then raced through to get my sister into the house. I grabbed onto a sheet that was ready to take off with the wind. Unable to reach the clothes pins holding it to the line, I just held it as a t-shirt took to the air. "Stay in there" mom yelled, rushing out the back door to get the rest wash down.
Pulling the basket of clothes across the porch and into the kitchen, I watch mom race over to help Mrs. Clemen. Yelling back for us to get in the basement as she answered Mrs.Mathew who was telling Mom to use the sidewalk.
Standing at the basement steps we waited for Mom to return. Not fighting, we just stood there very still, very quiet, waiting. Cathy, holding her Raggedy Ann Doll, looking up the steps. Me, wondering if mom was blown away. We just stood there looking up the steps waiting for the sound of the back door to open .
Hearing Mom apologize to Mrs. Mathew and footsteps racing across the porch followed by the heavy kitchen door being closed and locked, we both called out. Mom raced to the front door to make sure it was secure. Only when the doors and windows were shut did mom appear at the top of the basement steps. She gave us each a tight hug and asked us if we were interested in a suggiebutt for lunch. Our minds were still on the storm though. Staying in the basement, Mom returned to scrubbing Dad's work clothes with Dad's homemade soap. Keeping eyes on the basement window, she went on with washing.
Stormy skies and laundry hanging out - two of my favorite subjects. I think back on those days as I add a bit more black to the sky in my painting. Maybe I will look for that Raggedy Ann Doll and do a painting of it too.
