There was a lot of coverage on tv this week of the babysitter's boyfriend who put the 18 month old baby in the washer to play "hide and seek".  He didn't realize when the door shut, it locked and the water began to fill the washer.  Well, the laundromat camera caught the whole thing, the man running frantic for help, people jumping and finally someone pulling the plug to shut off the machine.  All ended well, the baby was ok, but I bet they get a new babysitter.

It made me remember a photo my father had taken of Barbara in the washing machine, the old kind with the wringer.  She was probably about three, a big smile on her face, suds on her body.  Why he posed her like that, we'll never know, or maybe it is just a figment of my imagination.  Anyway, it brought back memories of Bucky and her washing machine.  The washer was in the cellar, next to the sink so the hoses could empty.  I think it had a buzzer on it when the wash was done.  Well, not really done.  Then Bucky had to put the clothes, one at a time through the wringer to wring out the water....no spin cycle on this washer.  The problems were many.  Clothes got tangled and you had to tug to get them out, fingers could get caught, and worse of all Bucky's housedress that she was wearing would enter the wringer.

Then you would hear her screams, the only way to shut off the wringer was like above, you had to pull the plug out.  We would run down the cellar stairs, watching our mothers big chest get closer and closer to the wheels.   "Pull the plug," she would scream.  Now this is where it got even worse.  Whenever you pulled the plug , because there was so much water, you got a shock that could knock you to the floor.  But what a choice, so you would tug on the wire, hoping this time would be different.  No, the shock came, but the wringer stopped.  Bucky would pull out her dress, wipe the swear off her face, and say "Plug it back in, so I can finish this shitty wash".  Another shock, no surprise and a happy ending to the story.