Horizon

Bobby, I thought I was the only one in the world who sees the humble clothespin as an American icon. In the 1940's and '50's in Wyoming, my mom or I would hang my little sister's cloth diapers on the clothesline in the middle of winter. They would freeze stiff immediately, and the fierce Wyo-wind would eventually dry them because of the tenacity of those strong clothespins. We who now use electric clothes driers forget that life was a different challenge back then. But, like you, Mom and I reveled in the smells of the wash dried by the spring breezes. Thanks for the memory!

A sweet thought, and lovely lyrical writing from you both -- but then again my mother has memories involving hard-frozen sheets dotted with factory soot. And as for the grandmother generation -- well, the thought of a Monday wash day taking literally all day every Monday is just godawful.

No getting around it, hanging the clothes is an activity made for poetry when you have a choice in the matter. I do have the option of using the dryer in the cellar, but I can save significantly on the electric bill by avoiding it as often as possible. I have considered foregoing the washer, though that really would be on a lark. On the other hand, hand-washing would not entail the effort most people think it would because in truth most of us over-wash our clothes, meaning you don't need all that soap and agitation for the outer garments you wore at the office for one day.

But what got me going on the clothespins was their reasonable price, amazing design, and utility. Have you looked at a clothespin lately? That spring is beautiful.

Will a 45-foot example do you?

Lovely. Graceful. A triumph of mechanical elegance. Also handy for securing one's nose when voting.

Also handy for securing one's nose when voting.

In Philadelphia, a one-party city-state with structural corruption so bad that the mayor scarcely even bothers to deny it any longer - yes.

You know, it's funny. When I first read this, though Bobby's writing is evocative as ever, I couldn't help but yawn. But just as I was looking over this thread I suddenly had a vivid memory of lying somewhere on a summer day marvelling at a clothespin. I'd stare at it, then clamp it on my finger to gage the strength of the spring, turn it over, try to pull it apart, try to put it back together. I probably stayed that way for well over half an hour. I sometimes miss those reveries that come so easily when you are eight years old and have what seems like a lifetime (three months!) to do anything you please.

This kind of post is, for me, the equivalent of living dangerously. When one writes about clothespins he knows he is running the risk of putting someone to sleep.

It's true what AH says. We've all sat and admired the structure of a clothespin on a sunny day. Or at least I sure hope we all have.

Or a windy one, as I had to go rummaging to round up some clothespins last week to restrain the drapes.