By Vincenzina Grasso, La Nostra Voce
Early in my youth in Italy, I helped my mother washing clothes the primitive way. Later in life I learned the modern way, having vivid memories of doing both.
My grandfather built a large concrete tub, measuring 15’ x 20’, where mountain spring water flowed in. We laundered our personal clothing here in our backyard. After they were washed and rung out, we carried them to our rooftop terrace to hang and dry.
This article first appeared in La Nostra Voce, ISDA’s monthly newspaper that chronicles Italian American history, culture and traditions. Subscribe today.
On my trips back to Italy. I always visited the washing site for nostalgic reasons. Oh, the rush of memories that were recalled! I was in awe to taste some cherries, figs, and pears from the new-aged, gnarled fruit trees that I used to climb in my childhood. Those trees were relics that my grandfather had planted so many years ago. I also remembered how I used to hate to bring our goat home at sunset, after grazing all day at the bottom of the hill on our property. When I was in a hurry to be with my friends, I used a stick to tap her back, and instantly the goat pulled me uphill faster, as I held the rope tightly. Now, I noticed how dramatically things had changed through the years. The washing tub no longer was used, since my cousin Marinella had an automatic washing machine. Her husband, Pasquale, uses the spring water to irrigate his huge vegetable garden.
My twin sister, Maria, and I always looked forward to spring when my family prepared for the marathon laundering of all the homespun linens and bedding items in a nearby river. It was a huge task.
After a good rain, it was time to layer sheets, pillowcases, towels, table clothes, dish towels and sanitary napkins in many wicker bushel baskets in our back yard. Meanwhile, a huge copper kettle of water, together with some wood ashes, were boiling in the hearth. When this ancient concoction was ready, my mother carefully tossed in all the bushel baskets. They were left outdoors ‘til the next day to drain completely.
In the pre-dawn hours, we were getting ready for the daylong stay at the river. With a large picnic basket filled with our lunches, we started our procession, carrying our wet linens with baskets on our heads. We hurried to convene at the best location before a huge crowd would arrive.
As my mother, grandmother and two aunts started the laundering, my sister and I were busy looking for some slender, wicker plants near the riverbank, since our grandmother had taught us to weave small baskets. Soon we were busy making the small baskets, which we later filled with some wild berries or some small edible mushrooms. We also cut a cucumber in half, carved it out and ate the contents. Now we had made two small vases, which we filled with water and some wild violets to surprise our busy family at lunchtime.
Summer rainfalls were scarce, so we often had to travel to a larger river farther away to wash our wool blankets and comforters. This time around, Mamma laundered the bedding with her own primitive soap. She collected all household fats and greases, boiling them together with lye, which was made from wood ashes. It was a very strong soap that worked very well, even though I did not like how it smelled. When all the large items were washed, my mother, with the help of her sister-in-law, rolled the blankets tightly together on each end. They twisted it in opposite directions to ring out as much of the water as possible. All the items were neatly laid in the grass to dry. Now it was time to relax and eat our lunch. We continued to do our laundry the ancient way, until we came to America when I was 13 years old.
My father welcomed us by renting a large home, furnished with many appliances and furniture that we never possessed in Italy. My favorite items were a large, console radio in the living room, and the Maytag ringer washing machine in the cellar. And the big surprise, we had the luxury of bathing with warm water. We no longer had to wait for the sun to warm our bath water.
Even though we did not understand what was said on the radio, we were fascinated while listening to Gene Autry, yodeling on the country music radio stations. That was something we had never heard before. It was the quick contrast changing from ordinary voice to a falsetto, which was a high-pitched voice, back and forth, that was so captivating.
Years later, when Sebastiano and I got married, we bought a Maytag ringer washing machine, and we hung our clothes outside. When our third son was born, Sebastiano surprised me with an automatic washer and a dryer. They were both needed since we now had two sons in diapers. I was beyond thrilled, since I no longer had to hang dozens of long, cotton diapers that waved like little white flags in our backyard.
My sons often ask why I still continue my tradition of drying laundry outdoors. The reasons are many. I find it invigorating to breathe fresh air, and the exercise is a bonus. Line-drying prolongs the life of clothing immensely. Sunlight is a good bleach and disinfectant that helps remove stains. Rough air-dried towels make the best exfoliants. Ah, nothing can beat the fragrant scent of line-dried laundry. Talking with my neighbors is always a pleasure. Another important benefit is the saving of about 20% annually on utility bills.
I remind our sons that I feel blessed and grateful that it was their father who installed our clotheslines many years ago. Making it possible for my laundry to still sway brightly on sunny days.
Grazie, mio carissimo Sebastiano!
