Wash Day

I remember when every Monday was wash day in the neighborhood and there were clothes lines in every back yard. Keeping clothes looking good in those days was a very hard job. There were no stay-pressed or wash and wear clothes and everything had to be ironed. If it rained on Monday, your schedule was messed up. Quite a few things were starched. There was no spray starch so it had to be mixed up and the clothes dipped in it, then ironed. Things have really changed.

The Trash

In the early fifties everyone burned their trash behind their house. It was common to smell burning trash after work at 5pm. People would take a 55 gallon drum, cut the bottom out of it and punch some air holes in the side and there was your incinerator. They didn't start trash collection in Lower Township until we lived there quite a few years.

Camp Kimble

I joined the boy scouts when I was eleven and it was a great experience for me. We learned a lot at those meetings every week. The whole troupe went to camp kimble for a week and it was the first time I went somewhere without a single member of the family there. That was a great place with more food then I ever saw before and it was really good. The full size viking ship was my favorite thing there. We had trouble with the oars at first getting tangled up, but we finally got moving up the river. I believe scouting is one of the best things for a young boy.

Cleaning the Chicken Coup

One job we hated was cleaning the chicken coup which happened to be on the second floor of the barn. What a nasty job that was. We would throw the stuff out the window and try to hit the truck below. Jim said it reminded him of a giant dinosaur having a bowel movement. Anything to make life interesting.

Firewood

We spent a good part of our time cutting firewood when we were young. We didn't have any power equipment like chainsaws. Everything was done with an ax and a two man saw. The woodshed was connected to the barn, so at least we were out of the cold wind. Two of us would cut off 16 inch pieces of a log on the saw horse with the two man saw and one would split the wood. The whole time Dad would be talking about something or other. That's probably why we were so quiet, we never got a chance to practice.

Learning to Drive

Dad wanted me to drive the 36 Plymouth to help dig the potato crop. The plan was to use it like a horse to pull a plow that he was going to steer. I was only eleven years old and wasn't too keen on this idea. He said get behind the wheel and lets go. It was after dark and I got out on the road and headed south on Old Shore Road. We got down to the school and came back. We made it, but driving on the road was a lot easier than driving in a soft field so we gave up on that idea and dug the potatoes by hand.