Chiefandsugar Rock
The Clothesline
I am not sure exactly why I love this short writing of my moms so much. It is not an expression of her deep love for the Savior or her family. It is not a retelling of one of her favorite stories. It was not intended to be profound or inspiring. She was simply sharing a small piece of her bigger story, but as she wrote, she revealed her ability to find satisfaction and joy in the simplest of experiences. Nuny had a unique capacity for contentment. Although she penned many wonderful memories, Nuny did not consider herself a writer. Anytime she ever read anything I wrote, a talk, a poem, or even a school paper, her response was the same. “You certainly don’t get that gift from me.” “Your dad’s mother was a beautiful writer,” she would say, “You must get that from her.” Mom always saw and praised the greatness in others but never saw it in herself. Today we praise her for her strengths and her strivings. I am certain that she stood among the noble and great ones that Father Abraham saw in the premortal world. She writes, “In 1954, when Jack and I got married and moved into our own home, we were blessed to have room enough for a small washer with a ringer attached and also to have our own clothesline in the back yard. In our neighborhood, wash day was always on a Monday. It was a big day for everyone. It was a great day to chat with our neighbors as we pegged our clothes on the line. The pegs I used were wooden and my mother had made me a special bag to put them in and I would hang it on the line so that the pegs were easy to reach. My clothesline was made out of strong cord; the same kind of cord we used for skipping ropes. I had to make sure the clothesline was clean before putting out the wash. The weather in England was very unpredictable. It could be bright and sunny for a little while and then very windy, raining cats and dogs, foggy, or occasionally freezing. The fog was the worst because it left our clothes full of black slime, but all of these elements caused problems, and the bird droppings too. But looking on the pleasant side of it all (which Nuny was always apt to do), there were memories of relaxing in a deck chair in the summer and seeing my washing gently swaying in the breeze; knowing that at the end of the day I would be happy to crawl under clean sheets with the smell of the summer breeze, fresh air and sun. When I came to America, I missed the familiar sound of the sheets flapping on the line in the breeze and the friendly chats I had with my neighbors.” Please be sure to take home a clothes peg remembrance today AND should you ever get a chance to string up your own clothesline, be sure to take some time to enjoy the gentle breezes and sweet smells that Nuny appreciated and listen for the familiar sound of the sheets flapping on the line that she loved. And who knows, if you are listening very carefully, maybe you will once again hear her tender voice or genuine laughter and be reminded that Nuny, noble and great, is always near.