I remember clotheslines. I remember when we had a washing machine but no dryer. We had a basket full of clothespins that used to sit by the back door. My grandmother used to have a clothesline too. I remember her pulling me down the street when I was a little boy. We were rushing back too her duplex so we could hurry and get the clothes off the line because it was beginning to sprinkle.
On sunny days everyone’s laundry would be hanging out to dry; the bed sheets, the bras, the jeans, and the T-shirts. There were very few secrets in the communities of my childhood and there was no such thing as poverty. Nothing felt better than wearing a crisp shirt straight off the line. Sun dried shirts smelled better too. I love to recall my beautiful past. Memories redolent with the sweetest kind of affection. I would have stayed in that place forever had I known.
YB