Category: Uncategorized

By:  Donna Hale Chandler

Yes, there were absolutely rules regarding how and even when to wash your clothes (on a wringer washing machine, perhaps?) and hang them outdoors on the clothes line. I remember well my mother instructing me on the correct way to put your clothing out to dry.

1. You must have at least 3 clothes lines. They must be tightly attached to the poles so    they wouldn’t sag when loaded with clothing.

2. You must have a clothes pin basket of some sort. Most likely my mother made what we used for our clothes pins. It looked a little like a small dress hanging on a hanger. There was a large opening for retrieving or replacing clothes pins. The hanger hung on the clothes line and you slid it along as you pinned up articles of clothing. The clothes pin bag must never be left outdoors once the laundry in finished. It needs to be as clean and neat as the rest of the ‘wash’

3. Before pinning anything to the clothes line, you needed to make sure the line itself was clean by walking the length of each line with a damp rag around the line.

4. Large items, sheets, pillow cases, towels, etc. were pinned to the outside lines, leaving the inside line for your ‘unmentionables’. I’m not quite sure what would happen if your neighbors saw underwear hanging out on the line but it probably would not have been pleasant.

5. Socks were to be pinned by the toe, shirts by the bottom, pants by the cuffs, etc.

6. Never ever hang a colored item with a white item. The neighbors would surely decide that you were too lazy to separate your laundry properly before washing.

7. Don’t waste clothes pins. Pin the edge of one garment to the edge of the next.

8. The laundry absolutely must be taken in before the evening meal. Again, the neighbors would decide lazy people lived there if the wash hung outdoors too long.

9. As you removed clothing from the line, the pins went back in the clothes pin bag and the article of clothing was folded and placed in a clothes basket. This would make it easier to iron later when it was ‘sprinkled’ and smoothed out on the ironing board.

10. Of course it doesn’t even need to be mentioned that you never ever, under any circumstances did laundry on Sunday. You’re probably be struck by lighting and sent straight to hell for that.

We’ve come a long way — now I throw everything in the washer and when I think of it, move it to the dryer. (Grandmothers around the world are turning in their graves each time laundry is washed in these modern times.)

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Gram use’ta say

AGING –
“That’s when everything that doesn’t leak, dries up.”

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RETIREMENT
By: Richard L. King

Since I retired every day is Saturday…. Well, at least it seems that way.   I’ll wake up in the morning and begin to wonder just what do I have to do today, then I’ll begin to wonder what the hell day is it? It used to be that I could keep track of the day of the week by the date on my newspaper, but I now get my news over the internet so I don’t take a newspaper anymore. As a result I have to be a little more cunning.

A friend and I were discussing this recently. He just moved to a different community and ever since the move he’s having the same problem. Where he used to live he could see our clubhouse from his front window and every Wednesday they would put out a big sign saying BINGO TONIGHT. Well, my friend always knew when it was Wednesday because of the sign. When I take my morning walk I walk right past that sign so I always know when it’s Wednesday too.

Then on Thursdays the maintenance crew comes in to mow all of our lawns. So my friend said he always knew when it was Thursday because, “all the Mexican’s show up.” That’s probably not politically correct, but my friend doesn’t really give a damn. He’s an ex-cop from New York City and to be honest, he doesn’t give a damn about much of anything.

He and I play poker with some of our buddies every Monday and Friday night and I look forward to it so much that I just always seem to automatically know when it’s Monday or Friday. Saturday this time of the year is college football day so, at least during football season, I always know what day is Saturday and come Sunday about 10AM you can always hear the church bells announcing that it’s time for the service to begin so I know when it’s Sunday. That only leaves Tuesdays and since nothing of any importance ever happens on a Tuesday, I just don’t worry about knowing what the hell day it is.

Of course, I keep the calendar on my computer up to date, so if something important,,,,, like say a doctor appointment,,,, should fall on a Tuesday, my calendar will send me a little message to remind me.

We also have one of those Apple devices called Alexa, which reminds me when it’s time to start getting ready to go to poker. She also reminds me when it’s time to take my pills and I suppose if it was important enough I could program her to tell me when it’s Tuesday.

….Maybe I’ll take that under advisement.

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Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #414

About: Life’s Lessons

  “Telling your child you’re proud of them
accomplishes a lot more
…than telling the world.”

 

By:  Donna Hale Chandler

I tried to be a good mother. I truly did. I tried to be involved in my children’s activities. I’m not particularly skilled in the kitchen but I’d burn those cookies and send them off to school. I’m just not very ‘domestic.’ My son and daughter, now adults, survived but it was probably touch and go there at times.

Growing up I had one very well-mannered younger sister, so when our first child, our SON came along, I wasn’t prepared for that ball of energy who was into anything and everything. There came a glorious day when he asked if he could join the Cub Scouts. I thought this was a fabulous idea. Nice, supervised activities that would teach him lessons while burning some of his ever-present energy.

Cub Scouts were great. He loved working toward a ‘patch’. I was so proud of him when he was awarded the first patch. But there was a problem. That little patch needed to be fastened to his shirt. A seamstress I am NOT and I really didn’t believe that a safety pin would be acceptable. So I sucked it up, went to the store to try to buy a needle and some thread. The cashier at Joann Fabrics probably is still talking about the woman who tried to purchase ONE needle. (Did you know that needles are sold in a package containing several?)

Finally, back home I went with my important purchase. I sat down with the Cub Scout shirt, my new needle and a spool of navy thread. I tried to keep my stitches small so they wouldn’t be so visible. I tried to not pull the thread too tight so the material wouldn’t pucker. I tried to do everything right. When I was all finished and held up the shirt for inspection, THE PATCH WAS CROOKED.

I had to pick those itty bitty stitches out and start all over again ………………. TWICE! By the time I was finished I felt like I had sewn a complete wardrobe. But, when we went to the next Cub Scout meeting, his patch was firmly attached in the right place. It wasn’t crooked. It wasn’t puckered. I was almost as pleased with myself for sewing the patch as I was of him for earning the patch.

As I was sitting there with the other mothers watching the ‘cubs’ go about the business of working toward yet another patch, the woman next to mean leaned over and said, “Isn’t it wonderful that they’re making iron-on patches now. I just hated sewing those on for my oldest son.”

Wait! What did she just say? When I turned to look at her she must have been able to read the disbelief in my face because she repeated herself, “I said, aren’t the iron-on patches great?”

I tried to smile and said, “Yes, they sure are.”

(The complete story can be found in Life Happens (My Story). See our Book page.)

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Gram use’ta say

“Misbehavior is sufficient justification
to have a knot jerked in your tail.”

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EVERYTHING
© By: Richard L. King
From the book: Memories & Time

 She’s the frosting on his cake, the puddin’ in his pie,
she’s his sunshine on a cloudy day, the apple of his eye.

His cuddle waiting to happen, the shoulder upon which he’ll cry,
were she not in his life, it’s doubtful he’d get by.

She’s the straw that stirs his drink, the one who makes him swoon,
his beacon in the night, were he the tide, she’d be his moon.

She’s the wind that fills his sails and his anchor when one is needed
since she came into his life he has never felt defeated.

When difficulties they encounter, she faces them undaunted.
Truth be known she’s everything he never knew he always wanted.

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 Gramps use’ta say
©R.L.King2012 #331

About: Expectations

“You can’t live someone else’s dream.”

By:  Donna Hale Chandler

Do you believe that Christmas is the season of miracles? I believe that every season is filled with miracles. My life has been filled with them, some small, some amazingly unbelievable. The first that comes to mind happened in 1968.

I lived in Kentucky. I was 19 and I was waiting for my 21 year old husband to return from Vietnam. Around midnight the phone rang. It was him! He had just arrived at the Lexington airport and would need to take a bus the remaining 125 miles. He’d been told that there was only 1 bus per day and that would be the next evening. After much discussion and happy crying, we agreed that he would stay right where he was and I would come to him – be there in 2 hours or so.

I knew that Lexington was an exit off of I-64 and I knew how to get onto I-64 so I figured I was all set – grabbed my keys and my purse and set out. As I neared Lexington I realized that I really had no idea how to get to the airport once I exited the freeway. The worry gnawed away at me until I spotted an all-night diner just off to my right.

When I walked in the diner there were two men sitting at a table watching me closely. I tried to look brave as I walked up to the men and asked for directions to the Lexington Airport. One man was quick to answer with a, “Which one ya going to darling?” Which one? There was more than one? Oh no!

The other man took pity on me and asked why to needed to get to the airport in the wee hours of the morning. Once I explained about my husband returning, he said, “Oh you want the big airport” – and gave me directions.

I found it with no problem but had failed to ask my husband which airline he’d arrived on. No matter, I parked in the first space I found and ran into the first doors I saw. As I stood inside the airport wondering what to do next, I heard footsteps coming closer. When I turned to look, it was him!

You don’t see the miracle? There were so many miracles that night. My husband was returning safely. A 24 hour diner appeared just when I was beginning to despair. A kind gentleman had decided to meet his friend at the right time to give me directions. I found the airport and somehow parked at the exact terminal where my husband was waiting. My 19 year-old Kentucky steps had been guided that night. Nobody can convince me otherwise.

Full story can be found  in Life Happens (My Story)

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Gram use’ta say

“The man always walks closest to the street
when he’s walking with his sweetie.”

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