Stains are Our Enemy

The laundry became my job at age 8 or 9.

Every other day, before or after school, I would pile clothes for 6 of us into the machine, using Tide, which promised that no stains would remain.

It was the mid-1960s.  Our clothes were all colors: handmade white blouses, a red corduroy jumper, and every color of the rainbow in between.  I never noticed that anything and everything began looking rose-colored.  Nor did anyone else in our house.

I did notice when the blood stain on the knee of my pants did not disappear in the wash.  I re-read the detergent box.  I had clearly followed instructions.  I tried again, washing them a second time.  The pants still sported the ugly stain.

I sat down and wrote a letter to the Tide people, letting them know that their product, which we had used for years for our large family, had failed me.

Several weeks later, when I came home from school, my mother showed me the large box addressed to me, filled with a year's supply of Tide detergent.  I don't remember if they sent an apology.  My mother was flabbergasted at the results of my silent effort.

My life of correspondence had begun!  My father gave me free reign to the postage stamps and my letters remained unedited.

RDB

November 14, 2016