Pressing Matters

This week in class, my students read a Robert Frost poem that made me think of my mother.

"A Time to Talk"

WHEN a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

I guess it's not that obvious why this would make me think of Mom. Mom had to iron all of our clothes, not just Dad's dress shirts that he wore six days a week, but everything down to his handkerchiefs. She'd iron my brother's and my play clothes and dress clothes, and then her own. She'd start with a laundry basket full of the whole week's clothes and sprinkle everything with water, and then she'd lay a towel over the top to keep them damp. The next morning, she'd start. I can picture her most clearly on a steamy, St. Louis summer day with the window open and the black oscillating fan set up to sweep past her every few seconds. She'd listen to KMOX talk radio or hum along when familiar songs were played. I can picture the finished piles neatly stacked and folded and the hanging clothes draped around the room. However, when the neighbor-lady Rose would venture out to her garden, Mom would unplug the iron and head out the back door to stand at the fence and talk for a while. I was not welcome in these conversations as they were "adult only" chats, so I was shooed away to play. After a while, she would head back in and get back to it. No one helped. Ever. Not my dad, surely, and not me, not even when I was in high school.

Ironing Out the Wrinkles:
My have times changed. I iron what I need when I need it. I rarely iron even when I need to pack for a trip because there is always an iron at the other end. I only iron my own things - Allen irons for himself, and Shannon and Meghan learned to fend for themselves early on. I know they iron only when necessary, and my sons-in-law apparently iron their own shirts too. (Way to go, Justin and Nathan.) Obviously, now days we have air-conditioning, and we have a wonderful, new Rowenta steam iron that makes the whole process easier. Plus, most of our clothes is either permanent press or it gets tumbled in the drier. Actually, I even enjoy ironing (or rather pressing) when it comes to my quilt work, and to make life even easier, I have not one but two irons -- one in the laundry room and one in my sewing room. I love the portable board Allen built for me. Best of all, I have a great little pug helper in Louie!