Sure, I damn sure remember those old bastard wringer washing machines. It’s my oldest memory, I think I was four so it was 1947 and the women had an old wringer machine out in the yard. We lived a bit up a gulch about a mile out of Kellogg, Idaho. For some reason the women, mom and grandma, left the machine unattended while it was still running, guess I was going to be helpful and wring some clothes and that bastard grabbed my hand and sucked it in bout half way up my fore arm and then just sat there spinning until one of them ran back and released my stupid ass. Still have the scar but it isn’t as big as it used to be.
The 40’s was a great time to be a kid, up the gulch a bit further was an old abandoned mining building that we played in a lot, getting hurt and shit like that, the shaft must have been blocked off or we could have really gotten in a lot of trouble, and none of us drowned in the creek either. And we had an outhouse, John and I would put long sticks down in it for some shit and chase our sisters around.
Back then nature weaned out the weak and unlucky ones.
Anyway, have a fucking blessed day.
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