A Parlour for a Plague

I recall Saturdays when my stepfather built fires under tubs and there were rows of wires for hanging clothes. We had a wringer washer. The clothes went into the tub of soapy water, was wrung through the wringers into the clear water then wrung again before getting hung to dry. One time my Mom operated the wringer alone and got caught in it. It pulled her arm in nearly to the elbow before she could manage the release. Fortunately, she was tough and no real harm was done.

My brother-in-law, at age 8 or 9, somehow got the side of his neck caught in a wringer and wore a silver-dollar-size snow-white scar the rest of his life.

Spin dry likely has saved a few lives.

One is wood frame above a concrete hangar in rural Florida woods and the other is wood frame off grid in the CO Rockies. Yes it has electricity. Even got a cell tower in range last year.

And that’s what kills me. Everyone is capable of so much more than they ever ask of themselves. That includes me.

No, that was the story my father would tell about his childhood. I don't think they owned their home, just rented space, and his room was apparantly the attic.

I always envied people who lived in an actual damned house.

My home was a flat above a store. It was on the property of the business he owned with my uncle.
He and my uncle raised the money to buy a bankrupt marina. He did that by first living with new bride with his parents, while he traveled down to another town to start building a house. When he got it to the place where it was livable, he moved his wife and first child into it. Then sold it and repeated the process on the property next door. Apparantly he did that 3 or 4 times in a row.

By the time I came around, #4 of 5, he had made a lot of money.
However, looking back as an adult, I can see that he wasn't really clear on how it had all happened, and didn't have any good idea of what to do with it after he got it.
It sure didn't go into decent living conditions for his family. I was too embarrassed to have anyone visit.
But he always had a brand new lincoln continental parked in front of the **** of box a home.

More importantly, because he really didn't have a game plan, or much knowledge about money, he was unable to impart anything of that sort on his kids.

One son died of alcoholism at 34. One is still alive, maybe 6 years older than me.
For some reason that one and his wife felt the need to start smoking crystal meth, after inheriting half the business (older sis got other half), selling it, and now pennyless and in rotten health. Younger sis became a coke addict, and in turns bulemic or anorexic. She's worked at either a McDonalds or a Pizza Hut her entire working life.

I attribute my normal life and financial stabilty to getting away from there as soon as possible, and keeping an open mind about learning about money, investing, etc, and not thinking I must know everything because I got flush with cash.

Hey, maybe folks just took a different path, you know? I had a different skill set, for example. Still, you seem hard on yourself, and others too, though I guess you've got your reasons.

Re the attic thing, I knew you were talking about your father. I could have just as easily said it about the air conditioner. We had neither of course but that wasn't my point. Just a poorly executed attempt to increase the levity. My husband and I share a common understanding about such things, and it can make us laugh. Kind of like the person who, hearing you are sick, will always have to tell you they are much sicker than you: You have a cold? No,*I* have a cold.

Many of our stories are colored by our age and location growing up. Had I grown up in a big city like NYC I never could have gotten put in an outhouse hole on a rope just to pick up a five gallon paint bucket lid.

Hahaha! Oh my God Edgar
___

Ain't it the truth.

Yeah, sorry joe blow, I do respect what you have to say.

I just don’t see a lot of levity into being lowered into a cesspit, or having the locks changed on your house while you were out, because you were late. Or even better, being told by your father when you met an attractive young man that with his looks he could go out with anyone he liked, so there must be just one thing he wanted from “someone like me” said to someone who was very much a virgin.

That’s what the “good ol’ Days” means to me. Today is wonderful.

That's ok Chai. The **** house rope was so bad, and so unexpected, and Edgar is such a smart and gifted writer, I thought he actually intended to get a smile.

Dark humour.

I actually thought

"Now that's how you do it"

With respect to the other horrifying and damaging experiences you relayed, and sadly many others like them, yeah, I don't find them funny.

Most family relatives I grew up around had the most screwed sense of humor imaginable. They watched someone a bit until they had some ammunition to use against them and the joke was the most insulting remark they could come up with. One of my half brothers summed it up this way: "Put the facts to the face and watch the tears come." There have been times in my life that I did a little of the same thing, and as a result watched myself screw up a friendship in horror. I would be aware the whole time what it meant to say such things but be compelled to follow through. Fortunately I didn't make it a habit.

Actually, that post came out way more preachy than I’d intended.

Yikes!

You're a very nice man Edgar. My cheeks are burning. I misunderstood your intentions entirely. I apologise.

I don't take offence at anything said in a thread like this. It's not the same as face to face conversing.

I'm so glad. Thank you.

I apologize too to everyone for straying from the intent of this thread.

I'm not sure there was an intent. More like an escape from the grimness. You're fine.

I always feared the wringer as a little kid. I thought my mum would get her arm caught in it. We got an automatic washer when I was tiny though.

Later, with the share house washer and ELECTRIC wringer, I found that easy to use and much more efficient than the dreaded twin tub!