The end of an era.
I was taught to iron my own clothes back in the fifties. I was always seen with my shirt and pants ironed and neat. I gave no thought to this as I thought it was part of looking neat and clean.
Back in the sixties I realized that this was not an important part of my life. So I quit ironing in the late sixties. I gave no thought to it until recently; everything that I wear is wash and wear, whatever.
Recently someone told me at work that his wife had gone on an extended trip. He said he was learning to iron his own clothes for the first time. I was dumbfounded! I was dumbfounded that he was just learning or caring about what his wife or family normally did for him. I had never realized that people still ironed their clothes as I had done in my younger ages.
If I want something done I do it my self. Laurel and I have learned that some things are done by one of us in particular because we excel in what we do or it because it is more convenient for one of us to do.
Having a wife as a working slave is gone from this family. That lifestyle bit the dust in the sixties for us. We are dependent on each other only because we care for each otherís welfare.
Sharing is sharing.
Being a slave holder is being a slave holder.

badaba
October 30, 2000
November 09, 2000
November 09, 2000bongaNovember 11, 2000
"Family" by Tom Lance
 November 18, 2000bongaNovember 23, 2000
November 24, 2000bongaNovember 27, 2000
December 07, 2000bongaDecember 12, 2000
December 14, 2000bongaDecember 22, 2000
December 24, 2000
January 02, 2001


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