White cotton sweaters and kleenex
by Jim Hays
It was the uniform of the mother in the 1960’s, various ones for various occasions, but ever present, the white cotton sweater. “Put a sweater on” was the response to the “I’m cold” lamentations of youths. The fact that the “GE Tract” houses off central State Street in Schenectady had been converted from coal heating units to natural gas didn’t solve the problem of the drafts and cold leaking in. Clapboard on rough cut 2 by 4’s with lathe and plaster walls, no insulation, and single pane glass windows let in the cold and drafts. The heat wasn’t going to be turned up for one person as blue collar families had limited resources and so the heat was left low to conserve money. You put your sweater on.
Lined up for church on a Sunday morning, groomed and cleaned, wearing your Sunday best Mom’s (sweater over their shoulders) would inspect and chide boys not to get dirty. Fat chance in families with multiple young boys, many close in age as “Irish Twins” were common. Boyish exuberance was the norm leading to wrestling matches and all out fights. Any food or candy found out and about was immediately consumed like a pack of wolves, muzzles often showing the sticky evidence of “the kill”. Armed against the normal activities of young boys moms loaded the white sweater with supplies. Mints. life savers, and butterscotch candies to soothe the savage youth’s and against any incursion of dirt upon “the boys” moms loaded their sweaters with a never ending supply of kleenex.
They sat unseen, hidden, tucked away in various spots for quick retrieval. They were amazingly never new nor totally used up, wrinkled, used and reused they magically retained some measure of utility. A speck of drool on a young boy would usher forth one from up the sleeve and the offending slobber removed with a force which rendered the little face scrunched into a frown. No matter the facial orifice which produced offensive substances, and how many occurrences, a state of cleanliness was achieved, even if only temporarily. Mom’s weapon of war against the never ending dirt, drool, and snot of young boys was returned to a safe hiding place ready to be called back into battle on the side of cleanliness. Another battle won.
It was a happy time when a boys growth brought him to a size which prevented the kleenex assault. In addition to not being needed as much, when an incident did occur one was now old enough to escape the clutches of cleanliness by flight to a safe distance just out of mom’s reach. Unfortunately, this left the youngest of “the boys” as the sacrificial lamb, small, easy to catch and hold onto. And lacking another to distract her the poor boy suffered the time and energy usually equally distributed among many, bearing the full brunt of it and often with a multiple kleenex assault.
I suppose I had suffered the “lick and wash” where the kleenex was first dabbed on her damp tongue and now quasi-damp was used as a wash cloth against some stuck on offending substance. I probably parked it in the sub-conscience memory, no need to recall that trauma, I’m sure. But I was witness to my poor little brother suffering this fate time and time again. The poor lad suffered all the attentions of moms maternal instincts going through youth impeccably clean and with nary a hair ever out of place for the “wash cloth” also served as a damp comb.
Even Dad saw the excesses of attention Mom gave the youngest lad, trapped like a kitten in the clutches of an overly attentive momma-cat, groom, clean, clean, groom. I expect he would have physically intervened to save the boy but most assuredly suffered this same fate at the hands of his mother and so was conditioned to not get close. When the “lick dab” would first appear he would attempt humor to distract her as she wiped at the face saying, “good thing the boy didn’t shit himself” bringing “us men” to great laughter at that visual, but it never did deter her and so we could do nothing but sit idly by and watch, hoping she would tire and release the poor lad at some point.
Just as a moms kleenex replaced grandma’s handkerchief I expect now the kleenex has been replaced by the moist towlette. I suppose it’s a bit more sanitary than mom’s reused spit-kleenex, towlette ushered forth new and unused from the wrapper and not from a sweater sleeve, used once and thrown away. Hopefully the mothers of today can still wipe away offending dirt from little boys faces with such force that they are scrunched into a frown for it certainly wold be a shame if a boy grows old with no warm memories of mom being mom.