Dish Washing Hierarchy – Growing Up in Dublin, Texas<\/p>\n
I guess it is no longer any concern today with most houses having an Automatic Dish Washer in their house. But when I was growing up there what I call the Dish Washing Hierarchy. After the evening meal was finished, any left over scarps had been scraped into the slop bucket, on the back porch for the pigs, and the any, if there was any left over food had been put away, the Hierarchy was put into play.<\/p>\n
It was a staircase affair. The oldest, was the one, who would wash the dishes, silverware (eating utensils ours were not silver), and any pots and pans, after which he would put them in the sink next to his. The next to oldest would be in control of this sink and would rinse the dishes, and then place them in the draining\/drying rack. The next oldest would be the Dryer, who had a dish towel to dry the dishes and then put them away.<\/p>\n
When I entered this Hierarchy, I was the designated dryer. I had a low stool to stand on, so I could reach the shelves which were in front of me and above the draining rack. this is where I placed the plates, and glasses. The drawer below this rack was for the knifes, forks, and spoons. I always thought this was the most tedious job of the three, and that the rinser had the cleanest and and easiest job of the three.<\/p>\n
When Kenneth went to college, I was promoted to Rinser, and I found that this position was not only easier but gave one a sense of power also. This power came from the responsibility of the position, and that was to make sure the Washer had cleared and cleaned the dishes and utensils properly. If not, the rinser was to let the washer know, and give the unclean item back to be done again. Now with power also comes the abuse of power, and the rinser could abuse quiet easily. Especially if he had a grudge with the Washer or if he was just displacing his frustration with having to be doing the chore in the first place. All the rinser had to do was to say, “This is not clean.” and drop it back in the Washer’s sink full of sudsy water. Clean or not the Washer was obliged to rewash it or at least inspect it and give it back to the rinser.<\/p>\n
This sometimes would start us playing around or at worse start an argument but either would prolong the job and keep us away from doing our homework or more importantly playing. Heck maybe this was a sort of playing to begin with. At least if when we got bit carried away with it, wash and rinse water would end up all over the floor. If we were lucky this would end and we would get our chore done but at the worst Mom would hear and she would come into the kitchen and give us what for, in so many words, after which we would snicker to ourselves or startup again. The latter would always prompt Mom to come in again and the so many words became a bit harsher with the threat of letting Dad know. That always calmed things down.<\/p>\n
I have to admit or at least plead guilty to instigating my share of prompting.<\/p>\n
__________<\/p>\n
\u00c2\u00a9 2006 Texas Tortilla Factory – Mike Vauthier<\/p>\n
Tuesday, August 29, 2006<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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