TheBanyanTree: Clotheslines

[Margaret R. Kramer]

The senior pro golf tour is here in the Cities this weekend.  Old familiar
names like Lee Trevino, Chi Chi Rodriquez, and others come here once a year
for a little action.  A picture in our newspaper yesterday showed one of the
golfers teeing off.  There were several homes in the background, as living
just off of a golf course is a big deal here in Minnesota, and maybe other
places, too.

What struck me about the homes was that they all looked the same.  They were
varying shades of beige.  The windows were the same.  The decks were the
same.  They had the same floor plan.  They were much larger versions of the
1940s and 50s three bedroom ramblers that made up my childhood neighborhood.

A lot of these new housing developments have covenants which restrict things
like whether people can leave their garage doors open, have basketball
hoops, keep boats in their driveways, have pink flamingos in their front
yards, and what kinds of shrubs and bushes they can plant.  And one of the
strangest things to me is that some of these covenants restrict a homeowner
from having a clothesline.

Now I’m one of those people who never, ever have dried my clothes on a line
outside, but there is something romantic, old-fashioned, and quaint about
stringing clothes on a line and letting them flap in the breeze.  Why would
they banned?

Most of the homes in my neighborhood, which was developed in the 20s, 30s,
and 40s, have clotheslines.  My home does not.  I think when the last owner
built the massive garage, the clothesline ended up in the junk pile.  But I
love those old metal frames with four or five lines strung between them.
Some my neighbors still have the metal frames, but not the lines, and they
use the frames as trellises for morning glories and other vining plants.
Some have wood and metal wind chimes swaying in the breeze.  My neighborhood
must the only place where windsocks are still big decorating items.  Most
people with clotheslines have windsocks, too.

My parents had a clothesline that was on a pole and spun around.  My grandma
had a canvass cloth clothespin bag which also hung on the line.  I don’t
know how she decided which clothes to dry outside or dry in the dryer, but
most of our laundry was clothes-pinned to the line and hung in the sun for a
couple of hours at least.  My parents had a clothesline in the basement,
too, and during the winter, most of our clothes were hung there.

When I was really little, like 4 or 5 years old, my parents had a wringer
washer . . . but that’s another story.

One of my co-workers doesn’t own a dryer.  That’s almost as dramatic as not
owning a TV.  She spends part of her laundry day hanging her clothes on the
line.  When they’re dry, she takes them down and irons them.  I bet her
clothes last a lot longer, as the dryer is great for wear and tear on
clothes.  Plus, she’s saving precious energy by not having a dryer run for
several hours.  Obviously, she couldn’t buy a house in one of those
developments, she would be too “green” for them and blow the beige out of
the water.

Besides having clotheslines, each of the houses in my neighborhood is
unique.  The floor plans vary widely from tiny ramblers to imposing two
story homes.  The colors of the houses comprise the rainbow.  Some yards are
neat and tidy and some yards could use a lot of work.  We’re not all made of
ticky-tacky and come out just the same.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net

War does not determine who is right - only who is left.
~Bertrand Russell