Here is another story from my childhood. As always, if you have a comment to make to improve the way I tell the story, please let me know.

Retelling the stories about my brother James always fills me with a sweet sadness. James died at the age of nineteen in a traffic accident near Provo, Utah.


Saturday Night Baths

The house in Solon Ohio had a toilet on the first floor, but there was only one bathtub, and that was in the upstairs bathroom. Each Saturday night there were eight of us that needed to take baths. We children had to take a bath once a week, whether we thought we needed it or not. Sometimes my mother would bathe the little ones in the laundry tubs on the back porch. The laundry tubs were really just big concrete sinks, one for washing, and the other for rinsing. The wash tub had a built-in scrubbing board to make it easier to wash clothes.

In order to expedite the Saturday night baths James and I would bathe together. We had a lot of fun doing this. Sometimes we would move together up and down in the tub to get the water to oscillate, creating a "tidal wave." This would always result in a lot of water splashing over the sides of the tub. My mother would come into the bathroom when it was time for us to get out and ask, "Where did all this water on the floor come from?" We would always look at her with puzzled, innocent expressions, as though it was a mystery to us.

Another fun thing we used to do was to let out all the water in the tub. We would then take a bar of soap and rub soap all over the tub and ourselves. When we were thoroughly soaped we would then take turns sliding in the tub. If you sat on the end of the tub and then picked up your feet, you could slide rapidly to the faucet. You had to be a little careful not to smash into the fixtures at that end of the tub.

When we washed our hair we would use the bar of soap and work up a thick lather. We would then look at each other and laugh at the old and wrinkled gray-hair men that we had become. It surely burned my eyes when I got soap in them. Sometimes, to get the soap out of his hair and eyes, James would put his head under the faucet and have me turn on the cold water. I could never remember which knob was for the cold water.

“James, which is the cold water?”

"The cold water is on the right," he said. I accidentally turned on the hot water. Boy, was he ever mad. "That was the hot water! On the left, you dummy! Don't you know the difference between your right and your left?" Actually I didn't, so we began a heated argument. I often got into arguments when I didn’t know what I was talking about. Just then my mother opened the bathroom door. She had a couple of ladies from the church with her. The three of them stood in the doorway looking into the room.

"And this is our bathroom," she was saying. The ladies looked bored, but politely looked around. Suddenly I stood up in the bathtub and faced my mother.

"Mom, is this my right hand, or my left hand?” I said holding up my right hand. The three of them gasped in unison. The other two ladies got big round eyes, and then turned to stampede out the door. My mother's eyes narrowed, liked they did when she was mad at us. "What's wrong with asking that?" I wondered.

"That's your right hand. And I told you never to stand up in the bathtub; it's dangerous. And," she added in a whisper, "especially not in front of other people."

I sat down somewhat confused. My mother quickly left. "See, I told you," said my brother.

Once James and I got out of the bathtub and dried ourselves off. My clothes were under the sink. As I bent down to pick up my clothes James decided to tickle my backside. I jerked my head up as I attempted to stand upright. Crack! I hit the bottom of the sink with my head. I saw stars. I fell to the floor holding my head. I was screaming in pain. My hands got wet with blood. James was saying something.

"Don't tell on me, Tink. I didn't mean to make you hit your head. I'm sorry." He looked really worried. In a minute my mother came rushing in to see what all the yelling was about.

"What happened? Oh, you've cracked your head open again. It looks like the crack is in the same place as the last time. Do you remember falling off the trash can in Windham?" I started to shake my head no, but it hurt too much. "You fell over backwards and hit the cement, landing on your head. Well, let's see. Lie down here and I'll get some ice to put on it. I wonder if we should call the doctor. How did this happen, anyway?"

I looked at James. James seemed to be holding his breath. He seemed really upset. He looked at me apprehensively. "I stood up under the sink and hit my head." James let out his breath.

"Well, next time you had better watch what you’re doing. I think you'll be all right, and we won't have to call the doctor."

After that James and I took separate baths. Once, while waiting for his turn for the bathtub, James became impatient and asked Mom if he could bathe in the laundry tub. He later told me that taking a bath in the laundry tub was not much fun. It was cold on the back porch, there was little privacy, the tubs were too small, and sliding down the scrubbing board was really rough.