The well was just out the kitchen door. It was a six-inch diameter hole in the earth. A 20-foot long rope let a 3-foot narrow metal bucket down into the cold recesses of the ground. When drawn up again it yielded the coldest and best tasting water that we have found to this day.
Real baths were a rare thing. To start with drawing up that much water from the well was a major chore. Then heating the water on the cook stove or the wood heating stove was another challenge. Bathing most days meant using a wash cloth and a small pan of water to do the best you could. Allen, exhausted from the days work, did not like to wash before going to bed. We could count on a fight between our parents most nights because Allen would go to bed still dirty (we’re talking cow manure on his feet) from the day’s farm work. Once a week, however, usually Saturday, especially before going to town, the family took a bath. A number three tub, which was a round metal tub about four-feet in diameter, was placed in the kitchen and filled about half full of warm water. We took turns taking a bath. The water was not changed, just added to or reheated in order to keep it warm.
© 1997, 1998, 1999, 2003 Portia Isaacson Bass and Veta Leigh. All rights reserved.