Ironing
Dictated to Elizabeth E.
I don't know how I was I first started ironing, but it must have been when we got our first electric iron. I don't think I would've been allowed near the old coal stove with all those old irons. There were actually a series of flat irons that were warming there, and when the iron you were working with got too cool, since the handle was detachable, you clamped on a new hot iron which had been on the stove. At some point it became my job to help with the ironing. I ironed all the flat items: handkerchiefs, napkins, pillow slips and dishtowels. We ironed everything in most days, even our bras and slips. I always thought I would really like to iron something that maybe had ruffles and wasn't just entirely flat, but I guess I didn't realize that when I got older I have a lot more ironing to do so.
One day mother set me up in the upstairs bedroom ironing, because it was cooler room. She said iron everything in the basket except your father's white shirt. When you get to that let me know and I'll come and iron it. I ironed everything in the basket. Of course by that time, I was ironing my father's workshirts, which were called that because fabric was so stiff and hard to manage. I was always glad when I got those done. Having finished up everything, I wished I was still ironing. Mother was busy in the kitchen doing something very important and so I thought I would iron that white shirt of my father's since I had watched her do it so many times that I know exactly how to do it. So I did.
I then called to mother and I said, "I finished the ironing." She came in and half-panicked said, "But you did not iron your father's white shirt, did you?" I said "Yes." She looked it over and pretty soon the smile broke out on her face. She told me I had done a really good job. The only thing I hadn't done correctly was when I turn down the collar, I had turned it down on the seam instead of just letting if fold naturally. She corrected that and hung it on the line.
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