Dishcloths (Trisha)

For the past week I have been trying to break down the steps that are involved in wringing out a dishcloth the way my Grandma taught me to do it. I only have a few more days to come up with a description of what’s involved if I’m going to make the Sept. 1 deadline for participating in a project I heard about recently in honor of the special relationship between President Obama and his grandmother. The idea is for Americans of all ages to submit personal reflections, poems, photographs, memories, etc, about their grandmas to be included in a special book to be presented to the president later this year. Never mind that he won’t have time to read it. I still think it’s a lovely idea. (http://www.peaceabbey.org/confcenter/grandmother_love.htm)

Which brings me around to what’s involved in wringing out a dishcloth. It’s because it reminds me of my Grandma. We used to do the dishes together every night after teatime. Teatime was a nightly ritual during my summer vacations at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Grandma would put the black tea kettle on the stove and get out the teacups and saucers. It was my job to spread the tablecloth on the dinette table and set each of our places with silverware and paper napkins. Next came the cream pitcher, sugar bowl, and dessert plates - because “tea” wasn’t just something we drank. Like every other woman who had lived all her life in the small German community where she had grown up, Grandma was an excellent baker and she always made sure she had something on hand to serve whoever happened to stop by for a visit. If no one stopped by, so much the better as far as I was concerned because it meant there would be more for us at teatime. In addition to sandwiches made with dried beef from the butchers shop and served between thick slices of bread that had been liberally slathered with real butter, there was always a platter of homemade cookies along with generous slices of whatever pie, cake or bar happened to be in the cupboard that day. As soon as the kettle whistled, Grandma poured the boiling water into the teapot where the loose tea waited in its little ball to steep. Once everything was ready and Grandma had poured the tea, she’d call Grandpa to come in join us. We’d bow our heads and listen while he said grace in his gentle way, “come Lord Jesus be our guest and may this food to us be blessed.” (His soft German brogue always turned Jesus into Yeesus.) But it was the washing up afterwards that got me going on this particular trek down memory lane. One night, after Grandpa had gone upstairs to bed, Grandma and I were at the kitchen sink tidying up the tea things. I was washing and Grandma was drying (usually it was the other way around) and at one point, after I had squished the soapy dishcloth together the way I always did at home, Grandma put down her tea towel, looked at me and said “Oh my dear, let me show you how to wring out a dish cloth!” It had never occurred to me that there was actually a technique one had to learn in order to wring out a dishcloth. But apparently there was and Grandma was shocked that I had never learned about it. Taking the soggy dishcloth from my hands, Grandma demonstrated the procedure I have been using every since. But like so many other ordinary little things we do each day that become second nature to us (try writing out the directions for how to tie a shoelace, or brush your teeth!), grandma’s technique for wringing out a dishcloth is so simple that I can’t figure out how to write out directions for doing it. It has something to do with folding a sopping wet dishcloth in half, grasping one side firmly with the right hand and reaching over to grab the other half with the left hand. Then you squeeze tightly, while rotating the right hand forward and the left hand backward. Obviously it’s not as complicated as it sounds. Which is a good thing because otherwise I’m sure I would have quickly reverted to my earlier, much sloppier, approach to dishcloths and never given another thought to what she showed me that night. As it turns out, I have been following Grandma’s procedure ever since she taught it to me. And the best thing about it is that every time I do the dishes I think of her.