The Long Hot Summer

 Originally Published Dec. 2012                               

This is a true story that was told to me by my mom.  And so, I’ve written it in her words:

It was only the first week in June 1954.  Not even officially summer.  But, after six days in a row of over 90-degree weather, I have had it!  But, what could one do when a fan was the only item available to keep your house and yourself cool.  You live with it, I guess.

I start my usual Monday routine.  Bert and the kids are already complaining about how hot it is, so I serve them cold cereal and toast.  At least the milk is cold, I tell them.  They are already too limp from the humidity to even care what they eat.

As I start to clean up the breakfast dishes, Ed, the milkman, announces his arrival.  Ed is always good for a couple cups of coffee before he continues on delivering the milk.  Bert, Ed, and I have a good chat and then I excuse myself to start the laundry.  Boy, I sure wish we had a laundry chute!  Then, I wouldn’t have to traipse upstairs to the second floor to bring down four loads of dirty laundry to the basement.   

Oh my, it’s a lot cooler down here!  I hate sorting the whites from the colored clothes.  It just takes so much time.  Bert changes his white dress shirts twice a day – that means he’s gone through 14 shirts this week!  Ugh!  Well, complaining isn’t going to get the clothes washed.  I better get started.  Did I say it was cool here in the basement?  Well, after running just one load of clothes through the wringer – not once, not twice, but three times, I’M wringing wet!  Well, as I’ve said before, complaining is not going to get the clothes washed – or dried!

Okay, time to take my first load outside to dry.  I usually like this part.  I’m outdoors.  The sun is shining on my face.  I can enjoy the beautiful blue sky that has just a couple of feathery white clouds floating past.  I hang the clothes – one by one – but it’s so hot that I find myself moving in slow motion and wishing for a wind to dry the clothes and my sweaty forehead.  The sweat is just dripping from my body!  I wonder if the sheets will ever dry.  I just love the smell of line-dried sheets, don’t you?

Okay – back to the wringer washing machine for the next load.  It’s only 10:00 and I’m just drained.  Bob DeHaven on WCCO radio just announced that it’s going to be close to 100 degrees today.  I wonder if my clothes will ever dry.  The humidity must be close to 100 percent, too!

Well, sure enough.  The clothes on the line are not dry, yet.  Good thing I don’t have a lot of clothes to wash this week since the kids have been running around in their bathing suits and sandals.  I’m sure I’ll have enough room on the clothesline to hang all four loads!  

Boy, the kids are sure moping around.  I think I’ll set up the sprinkler so they can run through it to cool off.  I can imagine them sitting on the porch after lunch and reading their comic books.  I bet they will all fall asleep for a couple of hours, too.

I was right.  The high temperature and humidity was just too much for the kids.  I think I’ll give them each a nickel so they can buy a popsicle at the corner candy store.  Maybe I’ll have them buy one for me and Bert, too!  That’ll be a nice treat after supper.  Oh, wait – supper!  It’s way too hot to cook supper over a hot stove.  I think I’ll just make some tuna salad sandwiches, slice up some tomatoes, and serve some potato chips.  It’s too hot to eat anyway!  Oh – and I’m going to use paper plates, too!

That was Monday.  It is now Tuesday – or as every housewife calls it - “ironing day.”  I’m already exhausted since it is really impossible to sleep when it’s so hot; especially on the second floor of the house.   I wanted to go down to the front porch and sleep in the chaise lounge – but Steve, Mary, and Joanne already took over the porch floor with their sleeping bags and with the cool nighttime breeze cooling them off, they were able to sleep all night long.  Bert and I were left with the little fan that didn’t help very much. 

It’s not as hot today – only supposed to get up to around 85 degrees.  So, if I start my ironing early enough, I may miss the really hot part of the day.  But - fourteen white shirts?  I starched them last night and rolled them up to iron today.  I’ve been ironing Bert’s shirts for several years now and have it down to a system.  It only takes me around 10 minutes to do each shirt.

I placed each completed shirt on a hanger and hung them from the drapery rods in the dining room.  Around noon, Bert came home for lunch.  I had just completed the last shirt and was very proud of my handiwork – spread out across the windows.  But, I was beat!  And, still had another basket of ironing waiting for me.  The sweat was dripping from my entire body and my feet hurt from standing all morning long.  I needed a break.  I needed something to drink.  I needed someone to tell me that I was wonderful and beautiful (even though I looked like hell) and that I should take the rest of the day off and relax in the shade.  And that someone should be, of course, Bert.  

I looked anxiously at him as he went into the dining room and walked over to the line of ironed shirts.  He looked at each one as if he was the general reviewing the troops.  He finally pointed to the collar of one of the shirts and said, “you missed a spot – there’s a wrinkle.”

(LONG SILENCE) 

Yes, killing him was the first thing that went through my mind.  But, I was too hot and sweaty and worn out to get up enough energy to bash the iron over his head.  So, I did the next best thing I could think of.  I gathered up all of those fourteen shirts in my arms (hangers and all), threw them on the floor and calmly told Bert that these were the last shirts I was ever going to iron again and that he could simply take them to the dry cleaners every week, pay for them, and pick them up.   And for the next 20 years until he retired, that is exactly what he did.