Goodbye, friend.

Funny things happen when you are sleep deprived. Last week I was on steroids and going through the usual round of sleeplessness. Like always when I am on steroids, I was moody and emotional. On day 3 of the required 5 days of steroids, our clothes washer stopped working. I usually don’t get too worked up about broken appliances, but because I was on a daily dose of 100mg of Prednisone, the broken washer was like a death in my family. The Maytag washer was 28 years old! How could I not mourn the loss?


You see, the washer is the last remaining appliance from my Aunt’s original house. I inherited the house we live in from my dear Aunt Mary. David and I remodeled this house. I now have the best of both worlds…the warm memories of my Aunt’s old house together with a new, updated version.


In 1980 when it was first installed, the machine washed my Aunt’s clothes. So that meant blue and brown polyester pant suits plus lots of tea towels (thin, white embroidered towels used to dry dishes).



In 1991, I moved next door to my Aunt Mary. Because there was only one washer between the two houses, the Maytag washer washed my clothes too. I stuffed my grad school clothes into that washer: jeans and lots of black things.

After my Aunt Mary passed on, I got roommates to share the house. The machine washed their clothes too---Belinda’s pretty pastel sweaters and Logan’s jeans and sweatshirts. During grad school time, my friend Shari and I were regular Saturday night patrons at Borinquen, a south Austin Puerto Rican owned salsa dance club. That washing machine always did a nice job of getting smoke out of my clothes.

After finishing my dissertation, I emptied the house and moved to Berkeley with David. I rented the house to 3 young college guys and they used the washer too! I imagine that machine washed lots of guy clothes during that time.

In 2001, David and I moved back to this house. David started putting all his Gap jeans and shirts into the washer and I put my teaching clothes (still black) in as well.

















In November 2001, I started putting in the clothes of our darling little baby girl. I began with pink little onsies and sleepers. Now I put in pink dresses and skirts. Most recently, that machine washed my cancer wear, which means sweats and other types of cozy, comfortable clothing.

















This machine washed twenty-eight years of sweat, stains, smoke and dirt out of soiled clothing. Will our new washer take us to 2036? I don’t think so. They just don’t make them like they used to.