Laundry Days

    Yesterday when I was ironing I thought about how much that chore has changed in the last fifty years. I still iron every week but there are only a few pieces and it doesn't take long. When I was still at home, my mom, sister, and I each spent several hours ironing every week. 

   Mom washed clothes at least twice a week and bedding on another day. By the time I was old enough to do laundry, her wringer washer had been replaced with an automatic Norge washer. She had a lot of trouble with it and the repairman came often enough to know us by name. 

   Mom starched dress shirts and dresses after they were washed. Then it was ready to go out on the wash line. My sister and I learned to hang up laundry when we were quite young. The wash basket was too heavy for us to carry so Mom set it on the wagon and we pulled it out to the wash line. We were so small we had to stand on the wagon to reach the line.

   When the clothes were dry, they were brought in and folded to be put away. The things that needed to be ironed were sprinkled with water, rolled up, and stashed in a big plastic bag until we had time to iron. The sprinkling bottle was a big glass soda bottle with a corked sprinkler head stuck in the opening.

   Daddy wore green uniforms for his job as the foreman at New Holland Concrete. They made cement blocks. He wore a clean uniform every day and they needed to be ironed. We ironed dresses, aprons, slips, shirts, pants, handkerchiefs, and tablecloths. Everything was made of cotton and was not presentable without ironing. We thought we really had something when Mom got a steam iron. That reduced the need for sprinkling.

  Daddy's Sunday suit had to be dry cleaned, but Mom pressed his suit pants every week. First she lay a damp teatowel on the pants and ironed over it to steam the pants. Then she replaced the teatowel with a piece of newspaper and ironed over that to make a sharp crease in the pants. 

   One day while I was ironing Daddy's uniform pants, I boldly declared that when I get married it will be to be a man with short legs so it doesn't take so long to iron his pants. And I did too! 😀

   However, by the time I got married fabrics were changing. Something called Perma-press was on the market. These new fabrics did not need ironing when they were dried in the dryer. A whole load of pants could be washed and put away without ironing. I learned to read labels when I went shopping and not buy anything that was 100% cotton.

   I washed something almost every day when our children were all at home. Now I wash once a week. Starching and sprinkling were eliminated years ago. I keep a can of spray starch on hand for dresser scarves. One can lasts for years. I still hang laundry on the line whenever the weather permits, but I don't iron more than a few pieces each week. 

   I got the best of both worlds---a man with short legs and pants that don't need ironing. 

Jim Thorpe

   We often go out to eat to celebrate our anniversary, but this year we did something different and went on  a day trip to Jim Thorpe. The town was originally called Mauch Chunk, which was derived from the Native American term for Bear Mountain. In 1954, the town was renamed Jim Thorpe in honor of the Native American Olympic medal winner who died in 1953 and was buried there.
   We boarded the train at Reading at 8:30 a.m. for the 2.5 hour ride to Jim Thorpe in Carbon County. The train stopped at Port Clinton and Tamaqua to pick up more passengers. I didn't know what to expect but the train was full. There was a variety of Mennonite, Amish, and Brethren on board.

  

We arrived at the Jim Thorpe depot at 11:15 a.m. and had four hours to explore the town.

   First, we looked for a place to eat lunch. A sit-down restaurant would have taken too much time and cost too much. We walked up Broadway street a ways and found a place to get Chinese take outs. That was the best we were going to do in this tourist trap. Picnic tables were available on the sidewalk so that worked out fine.

   After we finished eating, we continued our hike uphill on Broadway street. There were several options for things to see. We chose to go to the old jail which, unfortunately, was near the end of the tourist sites. It was a long walk uphill and I had to stop and rest a couple times, but we made it and waited for the 1:20 tour to begin.

    

   The Old Jail was built in 1871 and occupied until 1995 as the Carbon County Prison. The Old Jail contains 28 original cells, Warden's living quarters, and 16 eerie dungeon cells in the basement. An excellent example of 19th Century prison architecture, it is listed on the National Register of Historic Buildings.

    This was a no-frills jail and the inmates were not coddled with fine amenities. This is one of the cells on the main floor.

   A cell in the dungeon had only a mat on the floor to sleep on, a blanket, and a bucket for waste. Notice the shackles on the wall with which the prisoner was secured. The light was for our benefit; the prisoner was kept in the dark.

  The Molly Maguires were Irish coal miners in northeast Pennsylvania during the 1800s who banded together for justice against inhumane, corrupt, and oppressive treatment by the coal companies. In 1877 four miners were accused of murder, convicted through unfair trials and hanged together on gallows inside the Old Jail. In 1887 and 1879 three more accused Mollies were hanged here. Before his hanging one man placed his had firmly on the wall of his cell stating his handprint would remain forever as a sign of his innocence. The handprint has been dug out, replastered and repainted but still remains on the wall of Cell 17. We saw it but no photos were allowed. 

   It was horrible to think of the racism that caused these men to be hanged here. Even worse, 400 people crowded into the jail to watch. There are no hangings today. We sat on the chairs to hear the story of how a man escaped from the jail. He had two hours of freedom and then was captured and brought back with more time slapped on his sentence.

  After the tour we ambled back toward the train station. It was downhill now and easier going. The Victorian buildings in the historic section of this town are colorfully painted. Many of them house small shops but some are private homes. These are some of my favorites.

  By the time we got to the park next to the train station it was too late to go see anything else, and besides, I had walked enough. We sat in the park and visited with the other Mennonites, Amish, and Brethren people who were also waiting for the train. It loaded at 3:30 and pulled out at 3:50. We retraced the route, passing two large lakes and going over a high trestle bridge. I was glad I couldn't see what was below us. The Hometown Trestle bridge was built in 1931 and stands 161 ft. above the gorge.

  We got back to Reading at 6 p.m. It was a long but interesting day. There were many more things we could have seen or done but the time was too short for us slow pokes to do more. If you're young and ambitious there is a choice of outdoor activities like hiking, biking, white water rafting, etc. It's not too far for us to drive there but the train trip was something different. 

   And that concludes our 54th anniversary. We're happily going to 55 next year.

54 Years of Family History

 This post covers 54 years of recent history, beginning on July 15, 1967 when we said "I do." Unfortunately, we have lost four of our bridal party in the past few years. Only my sister and Leroy's sister are still with us.

We lived in a rented house until October 1968 when we moved into a new house we built. We still live in the same house, although it has seen many changes and additions in fifty-four years. (This photo was in 1989 after we added two more bays to the second garage. The first two bays were built in 1976.)

Our first son was born in July 1968. In August 1969, we had two sons.

A daughter joined the family in 1971,

And another son in 1975.

Our fourth son was stillborn in 1978.

Our family was completed with two more sons who were added in 1980 and 1983. This photo is from 1984.

The children were growing up fast. This family photo was in 1987.

Thinking our family was complete was a mistake. It grew again in 1991 when our daughter married and gave us a son-in-law. This family photo was taken in 1992 for our 25th wedding anniversary.

We lost Steve in January 1993 as the result of an accident. This picture was taken in November 1992 on his eighteenth birthday.

The family continued to grow as we added more in-laws and grandchildren. These photo were taken in 1999 and 2004.

We celebrated our fortieth anniversary in 2007. For some unknown reason we did not take a family picture and only had one taken of ourselves.

 

The next family picture was taken in 2010 with a third daughter-in-law added.

We celebrated our 50th anniversary in 2017. 

A fourth daughter-in-law was in the picture as well as the wife of a grandson. 

In the last four years we have added one more grandchild, another grandson has married, and we have three great-grandchildren. It's time to take another family picture next year!

These photos only show the growth of our family. What shall I say more? The time would fail me to tell of the weekends at the cabin, trips, picnics, reunions, birthdays, picking peas, husking corn, cars, graduations, weddings . . . the list is endless. There have been some bumps in the road but it's been a good life. We are blessed and grateful!

Times Have Changed

   It's quite obvious the world today is much different from the one in which I grew up. I have things today I never dreamed of when I was a girl or even when I was married. Microwave, computer, cell phone, and digital photos, did not exist or were out of the reach of the ordinary household fifty years ago. There have been advances in medicine enabling people to live longer or be cured of physical problems or diseases that once were incurable. Vehicles are built to run more than the 100,000 miles that was all my dad expected from a car.

  Those are the obvious changes in the world but there are many others that are not as noticeable in the way things are done. I was reminded of that a couple weeks ago at a reunion of Leroy's cousins. One of his aunts (now deceased) belonged to the Stauffer (Pike) Mennonite church. All of her children were there and all of them are still Pike. When it was time to eat, one of the women said, "Let the men go first." And they did. Then the women followed after all the men were served. There were no children because all of the cousins are grandparents.

  That little incident took me back sixty or more years to the way things used to be done. When people had company, the men ate first. Then the table was reset for the women and children. I well remember how long we had to wait to eat when my widowed aunt married her second husband. The tables were set several times and the children were the last to eat. We went out in the barn and crawled through hay tunnels in our new dresses while we waited to eat. (Our mothers were not happy when they saw us.) We were so hungry we pulled turnips from the garden, washed them off and ate them. Finally, it was our turn to go in the house to eat. 

   Somewhere along the way the customs changed. Now husbands and wives are seated at the table together with their children. And today, if there is a picnic you can count on the boys being the first in line to fill their plates. I'm not saying either way is right or wrong, but when the men ate first at the reunion I realized how much things have changed. I had not seen that done for a long time, but apparently it is still the accepted practice among the Old Order Mennonites. I believe serving the men first is showing respect for them as leaders and providers in the home.

   Why have we dropped that practice? Have we been influenced by the world's system? Have we lost respect for our men? 1 Peter 3:6 says Sarah called Abraham "lord." There are other ways to show respect for our husbands but we need to be careful we aren't influenced by the current culture that says women can be and do anything men do.

   On the other side of the coin, today we don't usually invite big crowds of thirty or more people for a Sunday dinner like they did years ago. We limit the number of our guests to one table full unless it's a picnic. It's too much work to keep food warm, wash dishes and reset a second table, especially if it's a Sunday. In that respect, the change is a good one. Sundays were made for rest, not slaving over serving a big crowd.