Family Archives

June 19, 2014June 19, 2014

Many Sheets to the Wind

Wife Lila and Hilary, my former chief lab tech, were talking about clotheslines on Facebook the other day. Lila said, “I couldn’t do without mine. Whatever doesn’t have to be ironed goes on the line. On a breezy day, sheets dry in 10 minutes and look like they have been ironed.”

Hilary, who lives along Taylor Creek at the north end of Lake Okeechobee, said she hasn’t seen a clothesline in years, probably, she thought, because her homeowners association prohibits them.

Florida is a Right-to-Dry state

I pointed out to her that Florida is one of at least 19 states that prohibit restrictions on clotheslines under Florida Statute 163.04 which deals with “energy devices based on renewable resources.” Lila shot this video of Grandson Malcolm running through her laundry way back in 2007. The story with that information was written in 2012, so your state may have been added by now.

Want to buy a cheap clothes dryer?

Thinking about clotheslines made me remember a mailorder scam I read about from the ’50s. A wiseguy posted a bunch of ads offering to sell low-energy clothes dryers for $20. Some of the people who sent in their money only to receive a clothespin in return mail complained to the U.S. Postal Service about being ripped off. The feds said they were sorry, but a clothespin qualified as a low-energy clothes dryer, even if it’s not what they THOUGHT they were buying.

[Editor’s Note: notice how Grandmother Lila starts to call Malcolm by Son Adam’s name at the 50-second mark?]

June 14, 2014

Family at Kentucky Lake

I was looking for some appropriate Father’s Day photos when I ran across these shots taken at Kentucky Lake. My green Datsun has 1974 Florida tags, so this must have been the summer of 1973. I bought that car in Gastonia, N.C., just a few days before I left for Florida in January of that year. Brother David, whose driver’s license was so fresh the ink hadn’t dried, was drafted to drive it while I piloted a U-Haul holding all our possessions.

The dealership agreed to have someone man the service department on a Saturday to do the initial 600-mile service, so David and I went out to put as many break-in miles as we could. He was a little uncertain about driving a manual transmission, so I told him, “Just get it in high gear and don’t worry about shifting until we need gas.”

Wife Lila buzzed along in her yellow VW Bug herding us like wayward cattle. She did great until we hit West Palm Beach where she turned right off the turnpike instead of left toward civilization. I managed to honk her down before we all ended up as alligator bait.

A trailer for togetherness

The first trailer Dad and Mother had on the lake was tiny. I don’t know how we managed to stuff six of us in there. We must have had to synchronize turning over.

Trying not to smile

Dad had this funny way he’d stick his tongue out when he was trying not to smile. He’s obviously pulling somebody’s leg, probably Wife Lila’s.

He couldn’t hold it forever

Eventually, the smile would bubble over. Mother’s still trying to maintain her composure, though.

A happy couple

We had a lot of happy hours on that lake.

Dad died there of a massive heart attack while he was building a sandbox for Grandson Matthew in 1977. I’m sorry he was taken from us so early, but I’m glad it was there and not in some hospital surrounded by beeping machines.

June 14, 2014

They’re Building Kids Bigger

One of my most prized possessions as a kid was an air force uniform my folks bought me when I was in kindergarten or the first grade. I have no idea where they bought it – I’m going to guess Buckner-Ragsdale – nor why. We didn’t have a family tradition of military service, but I was sure proud to wear it.

It must have been buried back in Cape because I don’t recall taking any photos of Sons Matt and Adam in it.

We almost waited too long

It surfaced almost too late for Grandson Malcolm to put it on. The pants and sleeves were way too long, but the jacket was snug on him.

It’s Graham’s turn

When we went out to see Grandsons Graham and Elliot the other night, I said we should take the uniform with us to see if it would fit 3-year-old Graham. Wife Lila said it was way too big for him.

She was both right and wrong. The jacket sleeves were so long she had to roll them up, but he was big enough around that she had a hard time getting the buttons fastened. It’s hard to believe that a boy his age would be bigger in the chest than I was when I was 5 or 6. It’s not like there’s a dollop of fat on him, either.

He’s Buzz Lightyear

Graham wasn’t exactly clear what air force guys do, but he was prepared to save the world as Buzz Lightyear. We’ll have to keep a close eye on Elliot, who just turned 16 months old, to make sure he doesn’t outgrow the outfit in the next year.

May 9, 2014

Early Mother’s Day Gift

One of the last things Brother Mark asked me to do before I left Cape was to check out Mother’s hedge trimmer. He said the last time he used it, it gave him a little buzz, and not the good kind. He thought maybe the power cord should be replaced.

I remembered it well: it was probably about as old as I am. It had a metal case and a 12″ blade. Since our house was built long before three-prong plugs were invented, somebody – probably Dad – had broken off the ground prong so you could plug it into a two-prong outlet.

That meant if the trimmer shorted out, YOU were the effective ground, particularly if you were standing in wet grass.

I quietly slipped out and went to the local emporium of tools and toys and bought her a newer version that has a longer blade, more power and was lighter than her old disaster-waiting-to-happen trimmer.

That’s ENOUGH!

Mother isn’t big on change, so I bought a mushy Mother’s Day card and a cute bow (which, observing the Family Frugality Rule, I affixed in such a manner it could be reused) and left it in her spot on the kitchen table while she was sleeping.

To my surprise, she loved it. Loved it so much that nothing green in the yard is safe.

“That’s ENOUGH!” I said. “You’re not going to have anything left but a stump.”

I turned around and saw her attacking a dandelion that had the audacity to stick its head out of the ground. “Wow,” she said, “I can even use this like a weed eater.”

For the record, I did a finger count when I left town. She had ten digits when I pulled out of the driveway. I hope she doesn’t think she can use the hedge trimmer on finger and toenails.