I can actually remember the days before permanent-press clothing, and how happy Mom was when she didn’t have to iron anymore. She was a working Mom and didn’t have time to iron stuff. Dad’s shirts still needed to be ironed, so he would take to the Chinese hand laundry, run by Sam Woo. (Some of us wrote a little poem that we would yell out loud whenever we’d pass his laundry: "SAM WOO MADE A POO AND YOU CAN SMELL IT, TOO!" We didn’t feel bad about it until much later, by which time Sam had gone to that Hand Laundry In The Sky, where the water was always soft, even without Calgon.)
A lot of that changed after Mom remarried. My stepfather’s shirts were all permanent press, but Mom would iron them, anyway, along with a blouse for herself, the night before they were to be worn. We had gotten rid of the ironing board when we left Glenwood Avenue for the suburbs, so she would take a bath towel, fold it in half, and put it on the kitchen counter, and iron there.
She seemed to be proud of ironing. When I’d go to Chicago I’d stay with them, and she’d offer to iron my shirts. I’d tell her that it was OK, that they were permanent press, but she’d iron them anyway. Everybody has their language of love. Mom’s was freshly-ironed clothes.
Linda brings us Stream of Consciousness Saturday every week. Now a word about Calgon water softener. Helps get clothes up to 30% cleaner!
That commercial is from the ’70’s…I figured it’d explain the references above…