April 12th………..“PLEASE TELL US, GRANDPA, HOW DID YOUR MOTHER, CLARICE, WASH CLOTHES AND DRY THEM DURING YOUR YOUNG FARM DAYS IN MINNESOTA”?
POEM – “Laughing Laundry” by N. Elliott Noorlun
Daddy’s longjohns waved at me, Upon that early spring breeze.
His bib overalls, Were dancing alongside, Exposing their worn out knees.
The air was chilled, Yet early spring had spilled, Across our farming world,
With orchard soon abloom, There now was room, To make our family clothes unfurled.
Mom’s ‘unmentionables’ were shy, As they’d fly up high, They blushed to hide behind a cloud.
Her ‘private affairs’, Were now posted upstairs, On that clothesline so public and loud.
There was something sublime, To our farm life time, Prairie winds made our clothes ‘come alive’.
To all passersby, Neighbor farm gal or guy, Were clothes-signs that our family did thrive.
In our mom’s cleaning day, Wringer washer held sway, When it came to scrubbing our clothes.
But you had to watch out, You might hear Mom shout, When she and machine came to blows.
Grandma Amanda fared worse, In pre-electric curse, Wet clothes had to go through crank ringer.
Some body parts, Learned a hard way with ‘SMARTS’, That wrong hand crank made a ‘ZINGER’!
From handkerchief giggles, To wet washcloth wiggles, Laughing laundry could gladly rejoice.
To have danced on the air, Of that spring wind bare, As our ears heard each sweet fabric ‘voice’!
Norwegian Farmer's Son 