Reflections

Years are the stepping-stones,
Since mother was a girl.
Without electric washers,
To give the clothes a whirl.

Only a metal-washboard,
To dabble out the duds.
As her weary back bent over,
A tub of billowy suds.

A boiler-bath awaited,
For this way whitened most.
Before the clothes were stretched,
On the line...like frozen ghosts.

Today...our automatic urge,
Reflects those years of sweat.
If gratefulness was not so strong,
We would likely all forget.


E.P. 1908 - 1989


November - 1998;

"Open your eyes. Do you see what I see? Remember, a loooooooong time ago when we all lived at home? Mom had this metal basbet nailed just above the sink. She kept her chore girl, scrubbers, and dishrags in it. That was so long ago. Do you remember that and do you see this little wire basket as it was above her sink? Now don't call me zany - just enjoy the memories. You can put soap in it. You can fill with pot pourri; candy or arrange a floral bouquet. My love to you, always, LaRae."

LaRae is Ethels oldest daughter. She gave this to her sisters including my mother.