DianaT
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Laundry in Baja and memories of old
A personal reflection of Life in Bahia Asuncion
It is not a real clothesline, just a rope strung between two columns on the front porch and extended to a homemade wooden ladder. Reaching for the
wet laundry, the package of clothespins split dumping several onto the ground. There it was, my mind flooded with childhood memories. I was missing
the striped clothespin bag that always hung at the end. Quickly, I found a camping pillow stuff bag---not the same, but it will do for now.
Trying to remember if the shirts should be upright or upside down, trying to recall the most effective technique to sun dry the clothes I had just
washed in the laundry tub, the memory of mom’s first washing machine without a wringer was there. I could have used that old wringer. My thoughts
wandered forward to the rotting clothes line sagging on the rusted poles after the first dryer arrived in that Leave it to Beaver world that never
existed. I miss neither my childhood nor my clothes dryer. I simply look forward to my real clothesline being installed out of the shade of the
porch. The tubos para tender, as we were told they were called, are resting and waiting in the sand next to the porch.
Perhaps it is the town, perhaps it is my age, or perhaps it is because of another major change in lifestyle, but the return to my past is everywhere.
As the lady in the water office so efficiently typed within the little spaces of the receipt, I heard the typing song and felt my fingers banging on
those old keys; the keys that would strike the paper at one time and ink stain my hands as I pulled them back into place. I was back in Mrs.
Conklin’s class, or whatever her name was that year; it seemed to change often. I did succeed in achieving 60 words per minute, but only after she
permanently removed me from her class. The lady in water office has mastered her electric typewriter; fortunately an electric a generation beyond
those one-ton electric IBM monsters with the movable carriages that inflicted massive bruises on bystanders when the return button was pushed.
Not my first experience living where parts of the clock are turned back from what we call modern progress, but no longer working, there is more time
to think and feel. My mind wanders in and out of the past and the present as our life is shared between the city with fine restaurants, theatre and
our Jacuzzi bathtub, and contrasted by the serenity in our small pueblo surrounded by natures wonders, and with the gentle gravity fed shower.
Diane
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CaboRon
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Diane,
Wonderful story ..... these are the moments and feelings that make Baja California so endearing.
CaboRon
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vandenberg
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Great writing Diane,
For me, it brings back memories of growing up in a cold water walk-up in a Dutch city.
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DianaT
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Thanks to both of you.
Diane
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backninedan
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How fast clothes dry on the line are our indicator of the days humidity. One hour dry, or less and the humidity is less that 50%. I also like the
wood clothes pins, many fond memories of my mother hanging laundry the same way 50 years ago.
Odd, the things that will kick the old memory into gear for a journey so far away and so many years ago.
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Diver
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Registered: 11-15-2004
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WOW !
Great thoughts - thank you for sharing.
Your writing is getting infectious; always waiting for the next wonderful story.
Sounds like you have the best of both worlds !
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