JOY ALONG THE WAY: DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN!

When knits, polyester, tumble dry and clothes dryers came into being, I folded my much used ironing board and bid it adieu. Well, almost. It makes a good table when all other surfaces are three deep in papers. Edward and Steve were with me during the wash-rinse-starch-hang-to dry-dampen-iron age. Oh, those shirts! More for Steven than for Edward. Edward didn't want starch in his work clothes which were almost like a uniform, dark green pants and shirts.

Some of my friends were aghast when I told them I no longer ironed pillow cases. I was aghast when they told me they still did. Some even told me they ironed their sheets. "Only napkins," I told them. "Only napkins," ironed on a table top.

So, I was surprised to find myself ironing clothes one day last week. Here's why. I had taken a big load of clothes out of the dryer and tossed them into a large nearby chair. Some of the terry towels were still damp. The 'phone rang. "Oh, not again," I muttered, thinking it might be the "windows!" people again.

It was a friend. I hadn't talked to her in a long time so we talked a long time, so long I forgot all about the clothes which I usually fold or hang right after they're out of the dryer. Out of sight, out of mind, was the chair full of clothes. Out of mind for about three days. That was too long. They didn't fold or hang pretty. I could have put them back into the dryer but the morning was extra cool and I thought, could I, should I iron again?

It was almost like a trip down memory lane. The front and back of the shirts or tops first, then the sleeves, and the collar. Oh, it was so satisfying to hang them on hangers and put them in the closets. Neat creases went into the slacks that hadn't seen creases since they were new four, five years ago?

It was pleasant to feel the warmth from the iron, to smell what softeners still clung to the garments.

Soon I was down to the towels and dish towels. I remembered that ironing terry cloth makes it even softer than softeners.

I must confess that I thought, "what has come over me?" when I got to the dish towels. But soon they were in a neat little pile, ironed. So easily they went in the drawer. I was used to poking and pressing hard to get them all in.

Of course, while I was ironing I thought of those old "starch" days. But it was pleasant remembering the fragrance of Satina we put into the starch -- those little blue waxy bars that melted when the starch was cooking. Oh, that made the house smell better than any kind of potpourri simmering pots.

I thought of the irons too. Way back when I was first introduced to ironing, they were heavy, black, cast iron, handle and iron all in one. They eventually became decorated door stops. Following them were the irons with detachable handles. You released a cooled iron back to the hot stove top and snapped the handle onto a hot one. After that, the electric iron, the electric spray iron, etc. All progress, I guess.

But don't think that I'm going back to starch and irons. I'm a liberated woman, although it was a pleasant exercise on a cool morning and even more pleasant to put on slacks with a crease and an ironed blouse where the buttonholes fit neatly over the buttons.

Now there's an old cedar churn in my kitchen ... Nah!

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.