MOTHER'S MONDAY

Mother has packed school lunches for my three brothers and sister and sends them off to school. I'd like to go along but Mother tells me I have to wait until I'm older. She is checking the rain barrel to see if there is enough water to do the wash. Her narrow aluminum copper-bottom boiler with the water is placed on our wood-fire stove. There is no bleach to remove the printing on the recently emptied flour sacks so they have to be boiled for an hour to bleach out the print. Hung on the clothes line for an afternoon will finish bleaching them. Two round aluminum tubs are placed on a bench and she carries the boiler of hot water over to proceed with the wash. She tells me I can play outside to get me out of the way when hot water is involved. The washing machine has a vertical handle that is pulled back and forth to agitate the wash. A washboard rub will take care of any stubborn spots. She will have to buy more lye to make soap for next week's wash. I go to the pasture and pick some yellow buffalo beans that carpet the pasture. and present Mother with a bouquet and recall the joy of her smile. She tells me about a little girl who saw her mom's lye jar open and decided to sample it. Her mother had been distracted for a moment with one of her other eighteen children. They lived about 20 miles away and when I saw her later at our country fair noticed her mouth was badly scarred. Later they moved away and I always hoped they had found a doctor who could give her more help.

The water from our well contained alkali and was declared unfit to use. It soon had only a few inches of water in it with the gradual mineral buildup. A neighbor a mile north and west was able to dig his well beside a rushing creek and we could haul it home with our wagon team in 45 gallon drums whenever the rains did not come to fill the barrels. There was plenty of snow melt for the winter's water supply. Several years later our parents were able to buy their first vehicle - a truck. One Saturday morning I begged to go along for the ride. My oldest brother was l3 years old and could handle the team of horses well. He had finished loading the last barrel that banged against another one and the sudden noise caused the team to bolt. They slowed up when crossing a steep dike. As the barrels banged each other I had to make my first major life decision. I jumped from the tailgate as the team headed for home. The barrels had not yet been roped together. My brother ran to meet me. Mother dropped everything and ripped a dish towel into bandages to patch me up. For several weeks she daily tended my fancy head gear.