Tonight while wandering around my local five and dime, I decided to pick up a new ironing board cover. Yes, sounds a little odd, but I had been meaning to get a new one for a long time. The ironing board I have was my mother's. It is old, creaky, heavy, and cumbersome to move. But, compared to today's models, it is the best there is. And for all of my life, I have never known another cover than the one that has been on this monstrous apparatus.
The cover was finally giving way to years of use. The seams were ripping, holes were appearing everywhere. It was just plain wearing out. I knew I was going to have to replace it. It made me sad to think about all the pillowcases, shirts, handkerchieves, slacks, blouses, tablecloths, and anything that could be ironed, that had graced this table. But I knew I had to do it. Everything wears out. Everything gets old.
So, when I arrived home, I began the process of stripping the old cover from the top - only to discover that it was literally crumbling under my fingers. The back of the cover had once been some kind of foam substance. After all these years of use, it had become dry, brittle, and now, powder...ugly, yellow powder. As soon as I recognized what I was up against, I slowed my process and carefully peeled back the cover while unleashing the springs and hooks underneath that had kept that cover in its place.
Then I carefully placed the cover in the trash. Funny. In all these years, I had never seen underneath that ironing board cover. There were actually three more pads underneath. I also carefully removed those, took them outside and shook them vigorously to remove years of dust, more 'yellow' powder, and to freshen them. They were well-used, dark in the center from the hotness of the iron, but still in decent shape. I suppose if I had been covered up for 60 years, I might be in decent shape too! It was a funny feeling to actually see the top of the ironing board without all the covers. I never knew what it actually looked like, or that it was blue, or that it still had the tag, now deteriorated, on its top.
The bottom pad had an asbestos tag. By today's standards, we would run for cover. But an asbestos pad would have been helpful in preventing burns and fires. Think about all the heat an iron could elicit - and the potential. After wiping down the board, I elected to replace the asbestos pad it in its original position. It was on the bottom anyway and the other pads fitted on top of it.
I opened the new cover and thought to myself, my mom would be thinking, "It's about time you replaced that." She would have had no sentiment for an old worn out cover. Removing the new cover from the bag, I fleetingly thought, this is not going to fit on this old slightly larger board. But with a few pulls and huffs, I was able to successfully fit the new cover onto the board. It's not quite as nice as the original must have been 60 years ago, but it certainly is in much better condition than the one I removed.
For a few moments I felt especially close to my mom. It's been so long since I have talked to her. She's been gone from our lives for over 17 years now. It seems like a lifetime ago. But using her ironing board, unromantic as that is, brings me close to her. The sound of it, the feel of it, the touch of it, all take me back to the days of my childhood and her care of us - the hours she spent ironing our clothes week after week - every Tuesday - for countless years. I hope she knows that it all mattered, that everything she did made a difference - every meal, every clean bed, the clean house, and the freshly pressed clothes. It all made a difference because we felt her love every day.
And so now the ironing board has a new facade. This means it can continue to remain in service - for at least the next 60 years. Someday my daughter will change the top cover too.
No comments:
Post a Comment