From Bette Minall, Charlotte, NC:
The comments in the Ziegler refresh my mind. This magazine keeps me thinking, reasoning and laughing.
The praise that was heaped on the little robovacs that freely scoop up dirt without being directed and then hop back on their base to recharge motivated us to acquire one. When the machine finally arrived, we were thrilled to watch it operate. It ran around in circles for five minutes, upended itself, twirled twice and died. The replacement works a little better.
But the whole incident made me think of my youth. We were nine in our family with at least seven bushel baskets of wet wash to hang up on clothes lines weekly. Before sending the clothes through the Kenmore, we often scrubbed extra-dirty garments on a scrub-board. But, pegging the clothes on the lines outside involved bending, stretching and shaking out pieces. Then, of course, there was the starching and ironing--no easy task.
When a family member had a birthday, there was the beating of batter with a wooden spoon, mixing and stirring.
The Hoover was a heavy machine that had to be hauled upstairs and down. We often took rugs up and beat them outside with a stick to free them from dust. We scrubbed floors on our hands and knees. Women frequently made the family's clothes using treadle machines. Then they knitted, crocheted and did other handiwork. We often pulled wagonloads of groceries home from the store. Or we pulled friends around in a wagon.
I am sure that there are many other tasks you remember that took energy and muscle. This brings to mind the call for ways of exercising by the blind. Now we have to have treadmills, gyms and personal trainers. No father or mother ever thought of needing more physical activity--they got it just by living.
As our little vac scooted around, I laughed, thinking we do not even want to vaccuum, or get up to turn on the radio or TV, or to beat batter or knit. These activities keep our muscles in shape. When did we get so soft? A social worker for the blind once told me that blind people want to be pampered and carried around on a pillow. I bristled at that remark. But now I am beginning to wonder.
The praise that was heaped on the little robovacs that freely scoop up dirt without being directed and then hop back on their base to recharge motivated us to acquire one. When the machine finally arrived, we were thrilled to watch it operate. It ran around in circles for five minutes, upended itself, twirled twice and died. The replacement works a little better.
But the whole incident made me think of my youth. We were nine in our family with at least seven bushel baskets of wet wash to hang up on clothes lines weekly. Before sending the clothes through the Kenmore, we often scrubbed extra-dirty garments on a scrub-board. But, pegging the clothes on the lines outside involved bending, stretching and shaking out pieces. Then, of course, there was the starching and ironing--no easy task.
When a family member had a birthday, there was the beating of batter with a wooden spoon, mixing and stirring.
The Hoover was a heavy machine that had to be hauled upstairs and down. We often took rugs up and beat them outside with a stick to free them from dust. We scrubbed floors on our hands and knees. Women frequently made the family's clothes using treadle machines. Then they knitted, crocheted and did other handiwork. We often pulled wagonloads of groceries home from the store. Or we pulled friends around in a wagon.
I am sure that there are many other tasks you remember that took energy and muscle. This brings to mind the call for ways of exercising by the blind. Now we have to have treadmills, gyms and personal trainers. No father or mother ever thought of needing more physical activity--they got it just by living.
As our little vac scooted around, I laughed, thinking we do not even want to vaccuum, or get up to turn on the radio or TV, or to beat batter or knit. These activities keep our muscles in shape. When did we get so soft? A social worker for the blind once told me that blind people want to be pampered and carried around on a pillow. I bristled at that remark. But now I am beginning to wonder.
posted by Matilda Ziegler at
8:32 AM
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