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Posted by CJ at 10:22 pm (PDT) on Fri May 15, 2015
Hated it when clothes would get wrapped aroung one of the wringers. Besides the wringers, who can forget the the double wash tubs for rinsing, the bottle of laundry blueing, and the stick for poking /pushing the clothes in the tub? Fond memories of helping my mom.
My mom also did not switch to a New and Modern Machine until 1980. Really the only thing I despised about it was your shirt/coat sleeves getting soaked as you retrieved the clean laundry from the rinse tub. This was fine in the summer when you went into a hot environment outside anyway. But in the winter, BRRR!
My mom always had a Maytag wringer-washing machine when we were growing up. She'd spend hours downstairs in the laundry room doing laundry for a family of eight. Can you imagine? She did laundry just once a week! When the old Maytag finally gave out, we thought, great! Finally we'll get out of the laundry dark ages and get an automatic washer. Boy, were we shocked when she bought another Maytag wringer-washing machine! It was many years later when we found out that she believed clothes got cleaner that way. But maybe the biggest reason was that the hours spent doing laundry were her 'alone time.'
Jeez, now I've done exactly wrong and brought you all down! Do not go there! We're okay! Peace and joy is our birthright! my point! no matter what, we are made of infinite love! Take it from me! Now what's your favorite joke, everybody? Mine, at the momoent is one dog says to the other dog, "I'm not sure, but I think my name is Downboy" Come on?
okeydoke, it was my grandparents on my father's side, and it wasn't just the wringer washer, and I was not the first child in that cage, and yes there was much more, forgot a lot until I saw the photos of me over several years...funny thing, when we moved to the hoso of course I just happened to be there while they ran their awful script! same with all abusers...but my dad made an exact replica of the cage in the basement of the house he got on the GI bill, tore it down in a week or so...but no matter what they were carrying, why let others hurt? Not my issue, all children of God, andchoice is each one's absolute right...I'll figure out what next later...
Rivvy, I agree with Duff. The first story sounds like something from CSI. How can putting a tots hands/arms into a wringer and leave that child there as nothing but cruelty? You considered yourself as "A PROP?????" I would be interested in WHO put your hands into the wringer? How long were you kept there?? Was anyone else ever put into that wringer? Finally, how long ago was this event happen to you? Thanks
yes, what I said was what I meant. My tiny hands were put into a wringer washer and clamped down and left there, but I figured out, fast, I was just a prop, nothing to do with me, see? Let it go, enough's enough...
Okay, here it is: Amongst the myriad tortures done to me from birth and for three years, my little hands were put into the wringers and got wrung, then left alone...How I thank them for showing me that had nothing to do with me...so how do we get them to get out after all the ruin, and have them choose by themselves? If we think about it, it will stick..My job, as I see it, is never doubt, miracles fall at our feet, and every thought of any less at all will stick and blind us!...here endeth my message of infinite love to you...
MOM HAD ONE OF THESE, BUT I USUALLY DID THE LAUNDRY..... CAN'T TELL YOU OF THE TIMES MY ARM WENT THROUGH IT AND I THOUGHT ALL OF ME WOULD...... (CARTOONS SHOWED IT WOULD)
Posted by Duff at 3:25 pm (PDT) on Mon September 7, 2009
The laundry room at the summer camp I attended in 1963 (Camp Hurley, near Kingston, NY) used these.
My grandmother had this, too. She washed her clothes with it and never changed - she died in 1980. Lord knows how much laundry went through the wringers!
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There are 18 comments for this item.
Besides the wringers, who can forget the the double wash tubs for rinsing, the bottle of laundry blueing, and the stick for poking /pushing the clothes in the tub? Fond memories of helping my mom.
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