From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Like many moms did when we were growing up, my neighbors Jan, Suzy and I hang laundered sheets on a clothesline outdoors to dry. As they flap in the breeze, sheets absorb that fresh, outdoor aroma. Climbing into a bed of those fresh smelling sheets is sure to guarantee a good night’s sleep. We three gals are the neighborhood dinosaurs: we string the clothesline in the backyard or on the deck and hang sheets. Perhaps several of you still have embroidered dish towels, a gift from your wedding shower, that tell us specific duties for each day of the week. Monday is wash day; Tuesday is ironing day; Wednesday is sewing day; Thursday is market day; Friday is cleaning day; Saturday is baking day and Sunday is a day of rest. Where can we get those towels today? Does anyone use them to dry dishes?

Esther planned her week with specific chores for each day. Monday is Manic Monday for me: I combine the duties of several days into one so I can have several days free of duties. I wash, dry and put away several loads of laundry, scour the bathrooms and kitchen, dust mop the wood floors, and try to get my husband to push the vacuum up and down the stairs and vacuum the rugs. Once the house smells good and clean, on Tuesdays I can bake chocolate chip cookies, poppyseed bread and maybe a rhubarb pie or fruit tart so I’ll have something on hand to serve unexpected guests. Mom’s baked goods would go fast: she had coffee parties most days at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. for the courthouse gang. Every other week her card club would meet. They used to call themselves a sewing group, but as time went on, they played more cards than they sewed or knit. Florence Vegoe had them try various crafts, but that wasn’t always successful (that project of strange bowls of sugared fruit sat on Mom’s dining table for years).

Gathering friends for coffee and cookies was Mom’s specialty. I enjoy playing bridge and having dessert with friends. We always have one or two players who say, “No dessert for me; I’m watching my weight.” Those thin gals usually nibble at the nuts and candy placed on the bridge table and end up eating a few bites of dessert. After all, the desserts are irresistible!

Mom and Gladys Charbonneau used to call each other every day to check in. As they aged, they felt it necessary to check on their friends to know if they were feeling OK. Calling daily and emailing my sister Barb and friends Jan and Ruth has become more habitual for me. Just like Mom, weather is a prime topic as we commiserate about the frigid days, our aches and allergies, but we also like to hear what each other is reading.   

Most of my pals are avid book readers. We still read a daily newspaper, but like our kids, some are reading the news on their smartphones, iPads or computers. A few friends have canceled the daily newspaper and don’t watch the news on TV; they say that listening or reading the daily news boosts their blood pressure. I’d miss drinking coffee and reading the morning news of my daily paper.

Remember your mom knitting afghans, glueing pinecones to make a wooden wreath, sewing sequins on net tablecloths and making fake fruit bowls with that sugared look? I don’t have those artistic habits, but I do try watercolors and acrylic painting. I used to keep a journal, like Mom did when Dad was a sheriff and we lived at the jail. I’ve picked up her daily habit of taking a daily walk around the block, down to the lake or downtown to grocery shop.   

Polka music by Whoopie John was Mom’s favorite music to listen to on our Philco floor model radio. When she was cooking supper, she’d take a break and try to get Dad to polka around the dining room table. He’d protest, saying he had two left feet. No polkas for me, but when I’m cleaning, nothing beats 1960’s music by the Beatles or the Kingston Trio.

Geraniums were Mom’s favorite outdoor flowers, which she would save during the winter and let them bloom red and pink inside on wide windowsills at the jailhouse. In her dining room windows she grew purple and magenta gloxinias. Like Mom, I take my summer geraniums inside for the winter, and their blooms add cheer to long winter days.

Often, we don’t realize why we act the way we do. Where did our habits come from? As we look back on our growing up years, we’ll acknowledge we’ve inherited many of our parents’ habits. Mom and Dad had a greater influence on us than we might think.

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.