Mod Cons

It was 35° when I woke up one recent morning. As I nudged my husband and told him to go turn on the heat I remembered waking up in a freezing cold house as a child in both Pennsylvania and West Virginia.

Jim walked a few steps into the hall, flicked a switch and heat poured into every room of the house. My mother, on the other hand, rose at 5:00 a.m. to start the wood fire in the kitchen stove so the rest of us would not have to crack the ice in the basin before washing our face and hands. By the time I got up at 6:30 the kitchen, at least, was toasty warm and a big bowl of oatmeal awaited. I had brought my school clothes with me and swiftly changed into them in front of the stove. My bedroom, the only one occupied on the second floor, was almost uninhabitable in the winter but I was not willing to give up my private aerie until absolutely necessary. Flannel sheets and a hot water bottle for my feet made it tolerable most of the time. When the temperature plunged into negative figures I reluctantly deigned to sleep on a small cot in my mother’s room on the main floor.

From hindsight I do realize that lack of central heat did have some redeeming factors. Family togetherness was one. The large, farmhouse kitchen was the location of choice for most activities. I did my homework at the kitchen table as Mother prepared dinner. Later in the evening we all listened to the radio or spent some quiet time reading, but always together. Sometimes Father and I played pinochle or a board game while Mother sat in her rocking chair and did the mending.

Another lingering memory was the smell of that wood-burning fire. A long defunct apple orchard provided the most wonderfully scented firewood supplementing the pine logs provided by a neighbor. Bartering was big back then. In return for Father’s helping the neighbor harvest the firewood we received a supply large enough to last us through the winter.

Then there was the “water heater” which consisted of a large reservoir attached to the side of the stove. This provided a constant supply of very warm, if not exactly hot, water; enough for washing hands, faces and dishes. The weekly bath was a different matter. For this endeavor additional water was heated in a large container on top of the stove. That water combined with the reservoir water was then poured into a large galvanized tub placed directly in front of the stove. Everyone was banished from the kitchen as I indulged in my Saturday night ablutions. Air-drying my hair over the stove seemed to take forever, as Mother would not let me escape to the colder regions of the house until I was completely dry.

Forget the dishwasher, the microwave, TV and a self-defrosting refrigerator; I am just thankful for being able to flick a switch for heat and always having a bountiful supply of hot water.