The laundry basket on wheels

Once upon a time, we were all little. I was little during the 50s and 60s. That was truly a very special time period.

I remember those days that revolved around my bike. I pretty much always had a red Murray bike growing up. Murray was an Ohio company, so I am guessing that is why I had such a bike. I remember having a wonderful 20’’ Murray when living in Cleveland, which I must have taken to Parma when we moved in 1959. Not long thereafter, I had a 26’’ Murray that was a more burgundy red than my very red 20’’ bike. I remember riding that thing all over Parma and often doing it hands free, something I have tried as an adult and not successfully at that.

We had an old tent that didn’t have a floor that we used to put up in the back yard. It was canvas and had no floor. It had no way of protecting you from the insects and didn’t even have a door that closed. On the front, there was a flap that was raised up on poles that protected you as you walked in. The tent was mainly held up by a pole in the center of the tent. We had a lot of fun with this tent. I remember nights sleeping outside and having to throw up as I had drunk too much grape pop (as we called it in the Cleveland area).

I remember when I was younger in Parma, that we often had a pool on the grass in the back yard, one that was held up by a firm plastic or some sort of fence-like material that you attached a liner to. Since the water was so cold (and I have long been a detester of cold water), we used to open up a basement window and attach a hose to the faucet, thus adding hot water to the cold water available from the outside spigot.

Our back yard had a big white post for the laundry. We had hooks on the house and on the garage and could attach laundry lines from them to the post. I still have at least one of the aluminum poles to put in the middle of the sagging laundry line.

I still can remember my mother bringing up the rectangular metal basket (at waist height) with metal legs on wheels. I hear the sound of the squeaking device in my mind. The basket had a plastic liner. She had a canvas bag on a hook for her clothespins.

Those were the days!

About Richard Koerner

Sixty something, father, papi, educator, organizer, Francophile, traveler, amateur photographer, gardener, cyclist, kayaker, calligrapher, cinephile, reader, and overall renaissance type human being.
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