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Sounds like something out of the spring nursery catalogue, doesn't it? Actually it's a name I made up for a trend that has already hit the cities and may eventually invade the countryside. It's a concentrated effort to seek privacy from the rest of the world. I'm not sure when it started, but the front porch was one of its first victims. Remember front porches? They had a swing that squeaked and metal chairs that rusted and always needed painting. Everybody in the neighborhood used to sit out there after dinner and sometimes they talked back and forth to one another. Nothing important. The weather. How the grass would have to be cut before the weekend. How the next one up could get the lemonade. And then the front yards got smaller and smaller and the front porch was phased out to a pot of dead flowers and a doorbell you couldn't hear in the back yard. The back yard became Disneyland with a barbecue, jungle gym, patio, lounges, sandbox and vegetable garden.
It was only a matter of time before the clothesline marred the scene and had to go. And with it went a part of Americana that will never have such an impact on American families. The clothesline was a meeting place of women. They caught up on the events of the day, shared, dumped on one another and clung together. The clothesline was the original newspaper of the community. By reading the clothes you could tell who was toilet trained , who was not, who came home on leave, who had guests, who got something new, who cleaned house, who did not, who had sick children, who was out of work, who was going on vacation, who was entertaining, who overslept.
There didn't seem to be anything from neighbors they needed anymore. Large freezers held a storehouse of food supplies that you might have "borrowed" in earlier times. Unlisted phone numbers protected you from bothersome calls, and when you went outside to cut the grass or take a walk, there were headphones to isolate you from "hellos."
Creeping Privacy Paranoia got a toehold in society when we no longer needed humans to run our elevators, get our groceries, take us to a fitting room or assist us with withdrawals at the bank. I'm as much a carrier of Creeping Privacy Paranoia as anyone else. I've traded communication for bumper stickers, sociability for technology and accessibility for "Wheel of Fortune." What brought all this on was the other Sunday I was walking through the neighborhood and realized behind every wall were lounge chairs with no one lounging in them, barbecue grills with nothing cooking on them and locks on gates where no one wanted in.
I used to talk to myself. I don't even do that anymore. Maybe we're becoming too private.
I love my clothesline ... love Erma Bombeck ... great post! TTFN ~ Marydon
ReplyDeleteI loved your reflections on the clothesline :-). I miss Erma Bombeck.
ReplyDeleteWe have some wonderfully strong writers today, but none have a vision quite like hers. She had a unique ability to see and write about the everyday with humor that was gentle but spot on.
Ha! I love Erma! And speaking of clotheslines. I think I last used one in 1971. And when I was a kid I hated hanging clothes on the line. especially in winter. They'd be frozen solid. How the heck they ever dried is beyond me. But sometimes we'd hang them in the cellar in the winter. The white clothes didn't look very white. I remember how embarrassed I was to have people see those clothes hanging there the day my mother died. I had forgotten to take them down. But the old clothesline stories are great and it does bring back a lot of memories. Nice post Joy. Hugs!
ReplyDeleteThe covenant police would probably have a heart attack if anyone put up a clothesline in my neighborhood. I do miss the smell of clothes dried outside. When our oldest son was a baby we lived in a rental house in Fayetteville while my husband was in grad school. We had a clothesline, and I hung Hunter's cloth diapers on the line. Do they even make cloth diapers anymore?
ReplyDeleteNothing smells better than grabbing clothes of the line at the end of day, specially sheets.
ReplyDeleteI miss that smell and one day, will have it again.
We all love the smell of clothes dried on the line, then why is it against covenant rules in so many neighborhoods...mine included??? We should all join together to fight the Clothesline Ban, reinstitute clotheslines to their place of honor in the back yards of America!!!
ReplyDeletejoy c. at grannymountain
This post was completely lovely! We had a clothesline contraption when I was a little girl. It was on a single pole and stood out like a square umbrella without the fabric covering. My job was to take the clothes down. Mother wouldn't let me hang them because I made such a mess of it.
ReplyDeleteWhat memories!
Oh! And I would LOVE to have you participate in Positive Day on Friday. That would really bless my heart!
ReplyDeleteWhat great stories the clothesline must have. What a thoughtful post Joycee. Loved it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your sweet visit tonight. Come and check out my giveaway this Sunday if you have a moment. :)
I really love the smell of clothings, bed sheets and blankets which dried on the line under the sun too! Just fantastic!
ReplyDeleteGreat post! I have always had a clothesline and love it!!!
ReplyDelete