just rambling

My dad said, "There's no such thing as boy's chores and girl's chores.  When there is work to be done, we all pitch in and do it". 

And so I took my turn clambering up on the kitchen chair, pulled over to the sink, washing and rinsing the dinner dishes or drying them and putting them on their shelves, or sweeping the floor and mopping.  When I was 12 years old my mother handed me the iron and took me to the ironing board.  I learned to press my own shirts, pants and handkerchiefs.  By this time my two sisters and I put up our own lunches in the morning.  By 13 I was taught the ins and outs of an old wringer washer.  My dad was on the road a lot back in those days and his hours were long and often he spent several nights away from home.  Of course we had our victory garden.  What All American Family didn't have one of those during the war?  So mother spent much of her time gardening, she also loved flowers and eventually became a Master Gardener. 

At 6 I carried a twice weekly throw away paper.  At 9 I moved up to a daily paper and by 10 I and a couple of buddies  formed a gardening service named The Dependable Yard Service, mowing lawns, weeding gardens, raking and clearing.  Fifty cents an hour!  At 17, when I had detached retina surgery and could not do heavy yard work or work in the fields, I found that there were mothers who liked to have a dependable boy baby sit their sons.  And they had the bonus of a young enterprising fellow who also knew how to clean house and do ironing.  All for a price, of course. 

I was probably legally blind, but who fussed about stuff like that.  Either you could see, which I could, or you could not see, in which case you were blind.  Which I was not. 

But we knew that, blind or sighted,  success would depend at least in part on our willingness to roll up our sleeves and pitch in. 

 

Curious Carl