You definitely were a domestic diva as were most women of your era—canning fruits and vegetables, sewing everything from our clothes to making slipcovers and drapes for your sister(s) and in-laws. You created your own patterns. You did laundry with the old fashioned washboard, washtubs and the ringer machine that squeezed the clothes dry enough to hang up on the clothesline. It’s too bad Dad didn’t buy you that automatic washer and dryer before you got sick. You were “green” before your time by using the water from the washtubs to bathe Ruthie and I. Once the plug was pulled, we’d scramble trying to put our legs up, balancing our bare ends on the edge of the tub, screaming like crazy, “We’re going to go down the hole!” Water swirled down the drain and you tried to assure us that we couldn’t fit through such a small opening. We didn’t get it and still screamed until all the water was gone. You took in ironing for ten cents a shirt. I heard you’d whack the head off a chicken and pluck its feathers. I often wondered if you had other dreams than being The Domestic Diva. I have few memories, but one is clear, how you’d relax: You’re sitting at the kitchen table, working a crossword puzzle, drinking a long neck Stag, smoking a Vice Roy and listening to KMOX. I’ve inherited your domestic diva-ness, but without the crossword puzzles, beer, cigarettes and KMOX.
One of the things my mom canned were green tomatoes, something I did this past summer.