November 1, 2024
Claudia’s story continues:
Claudia rounded-up her boys, walked to their apartment, and unlocked the door. The boys scampered to their room to play. She glanced at the clock as she entered the kitchen. Three o’clock. Thirty more minutes until time to meet Matthew at school. Enough time to iron a few things. Claudia dropped her purse along with the pamphlet on the kitchen counter and opened the cabinet under the sink. She withdrew an empty coke bottle and filled it with water. After popping in the cork that held the spray nozzle, she hurried to the hall closet where the ironing board and iron were kept. It only took a few minutes to set up the board in the living room and plug in the iron to heat. She turned on the radio and began to iron one of Alan’s cotton work shirts.
At exactly six, Alan walked through the front door. Michael and Mark ran to greet him. Matthew, sitting on the sofa, looked up from the book he was reading. Claudia rushed from the kitchen and kissed Alan’s cheek.
“Sorry, I need to put the ironing board away. Busy day today. Matthew, take your shoes to your room. They don’t belong in here.”
“That’s fine. Hey, Matthew, when you return, I want to hear about your day at school. What did you two do?” Alan bounced Michael and Mark over each hip and tossed them gently on the sofa. When he tickled them, they giggled and kicked to be set free.
“The meatloaf is cooling. The English peas are done. Just need to mash the potatoes. Boys, wash up.”
“Peas! Uck!” Michael grumbled as the boys filed to the bathroom.
“Just bury them in the potatoes. Can’t taste them that way,” Matthew advised from his own pea-eating experiences.
With dinner over, Claudia cleared the table while Alan bathed the younger boys and got them ready for bed. Matthew grabbed his satchel by the front door, sat at the table, and pulled out his geography book. His yellow pencil popped out along with the book and rolled toward the end of the table. Matthew slammed the pencil still with his hand, placed a ruled-page writing tablet on the table and opened his book.
“Need help in here?” Alan asked as he entered the kitchen.
“Finishing the pans. The boys bathed?”
“Yeah, in their pajamas waiting for a bedtime story. What’s this?” Alan slid out the pamphlet partially concealed under Claudia’s purse.
“Nothing, really.”
“Then why do you have it? Claudia, you know you can’t get a job on base!”
“Was just curious, Alan. And what if I wanted to get a job there or anywhere, wouldn’t you support me?”
“What if you wanted to? Seriously? Well, number one…I forbid it! Number two…what did you intend to do with the kids? Leave them at home to fend for themselves?”
Claudia turned from the sink of dirty pans and glared at her husband. “Forbid me? Did you just say you forbid me? Only my father ever forbade my doing anything.”
“Yes, I did! What on earth, Claudia? What are you thinking?”
Matthew crept around the corner. Concern in his voice, he asked, “Are you guys fighting?”
Alan turned around. “No, we’re not fighting…just having a discussion.”
Matthew studied his parents who’d never raised their voices against each other until now or as far as he knew. “Well, when Michael and I have discussions like this, we get into big trouble and are sent to our room!”
“Fair enough.” Alan glanced at Claudia who had turned back to the sink. “I’ll go read to the boys.”
Claudia remained silent. What was she doing? Why was he being so stubborn? Why was she? She had no intentions of seeking employment at the base. She understood the boys came first. But why didn’t she say so? Was she upset because he dared speak the words, ‘I forbid you?’ Did those three words conjure up memories from her teen years when her father tried desperately to harness her rebellious nature? She owed Alan an apology! And she would tell him before the night ended.
After breakfast the next morning, the day continued as routinely as all the previous weekdays. After walking Matthew to the corner of Menger’s campus, Claudia and the younger boys met Mallory and her boys at Cole Park. Mallory parked the stroller by the bench where Claudia sat. Jack, Michael and Mark ran to the slides.
Mallory lifted up Greg and placed him on her lap. “Is everything okay? You seem out of sorts.”
“Oh, Alan and I had a fight last night. So silly…about working at the base.”
“But you’re not going to work at the base. Didn’t you tell him?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure he understands why I’m so worked up about it. Know the name of that big church on the hill?”
“Where? Oh, there. Sure. That’s First United Methodist. Are you guys searching for a church home?”
“No, we should be. I was wondering if they’d have any space we could use for childcare.”
“So, you’re still thinking about that? How do we even know there’s a need?”
Claudia smiled cunningly.
“I’m not sure I like that look. What are you thinking?”
“What if we place flyers around the complex inviting women who might be interested to an organizational meeting?”
“But where would we meet? Our apartments are way too small.”
“Here! At the park!”
“But didn’t you and Alan have a fight over this?”
“Not this! Come on, Mallory. Let’s canvas the complex to see how many moms desperately need the work but can’t because of the lack of childcare.”
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Great! Let’s go!”
“Where?”
“To the laundry room!”
~~~~~~~
Fun Fact:
I found this interesting article in Southern Living about the demise of ironing over the past two decades. Do you still iron? Did your mother? Grandmother? Prior to ironing, my mother sprinkled our clothes with water and placed them in the refrigerator in plastic bags. Sometimes I felt there was more laundry in our fridge than there was food! Clothes were also starched by either being soaked in the sink or sprayed on during the ironing process. Stiff and wrinkle-free was the norm. The article explains that today’s generation would rather wear sweatsuits, yoga pants, or denim jeans to avoid ironing at all costs. There is not a need for ironing “everything” as there was in the 40s, 50s, and 60s. Tablecloths, hankies, pillowcases and sometimes even sheets were ironed. A wrinkled garment was definitely a no-no! Today’s fabrics are constructed of material that comes out of the dryer wrinkle-free. No need to plug in that old iron to eliminate wrinkles. Some still iron…I do. But ironing today is more like pressing. When you’re tasked with ironing a starched cotton dress shirt or making sure the creases on a pair of slacks are perfectly straight, then we can talk about ironing!
https://www.southernliving.com/death-of-ironing-6525715
If you have driven down Shoreline Drive in Corpus Christi, Texas, surely you have noticed the 15-foot bronze statue depicting Jesus standing at the front of a boat stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee. This structure sits on the First United Methodist’s grounds facing the Corpus Christi Bay. The statue is secured on pilings 38 feet deep, constructed of 4,200 pounds of metal and built to withstand hurricane-force winds. In Latin, Corpus Christi means the body of Christ. Read more about how this amazing bronze statue came to be at FUM’s website:
https://www.ccfumc.com/christstatue
Claudia’s Story – Part 7 will be posted Monday, November 4th.