It becomes a time for the ladies of the family to bond. The guys might help if coerced into the job.

Grandma had her own theory about washing dishes. After a Sunday with family around the table, she stacked the dishes for later.

After everyone left for home, doing the dishes was her way of giving herself time to think about the family and friends who had shared her meal.

Each plate had served food for someone she loved and washing it brought back memories of their visit.

When my siblings and I were kids, there were four girls, so we paired up to do the dishes. One washed, two dried, one put them away. Sometimes we argued over whose turn was whose.

If we couldn’t work it out, mom did. We put two big deep enamelware dishpans on the kitchen table. Into one, mom poured hot water from the teakettle. Soap was not liquid in those days. It was a bar of soap put into a wire shaker and stirred about to create the suds. In the second pan more hot water for the rinsing operation.

Dishtowels in those days were recycled cotton flour sacks. Usually mom had embroidered some design in at least one corner of each towel. Every dish had to be towel dried then stacked into the cupboard, followed by the dishtowels being hung on a rack to dry and be ready for the next time.

Part of the operation of dish washing included plenty of silly talk, laughing and giggling. If there seemed to be too much silly stuff, mom would appear and the job went on as expected.

When we had Sunday dinner guests, mom liked using her dishes with the little pansy design on them. Those dishes were mom’s pride and joy. It was then mom organized the dish washing routine.

I don’t think she trusted us to the chore. A chipped piece of china was unheard of. She even used her best and softest dishtowels to dry them. Perhaps she just enjoyed touching the dishes.

Our daughters learned to wash dishes in two pans also, but with running water and a sink. Since there were only two of them, they could argue over who did what, but generally got the job done without too much commotion.

However, we, as adults, seem to remember their washing of dishes a bit differently. At least they overcame the experience and perhaps found some fond memories among them.

For the past many years I have enjoyed the luxury of an electric dishwasher. The washing of dishes chore has become not so much of a chore. If the crowd is too big, then Bridget does the dishes. It was decided that any machine that does dishes deserved a name. Bridget seemed to fit the machine. She takes all the drudgery out of the task and allows all the ladies more time to enjoy each other. Besides she never complains.

Sometimes we view the stack of dirty dishes with, "Go away, please." But then, we decide to tackle the job. It never really was that bad. Sometimes after some of our dinners, the guys offer to carry the dishes to the kitchen and they don’t even complain.

Then Bridget takes over and we all retire to the deck to talk of many things and watch the kids play.

Sometimes we wonder. Maybe we liked doing the dishes in those early days. It was a kind of bonding time among the ladies and got the job done besides.

– Lola Huber is a wife, mother, grandmother, retired secretary, stitcher of crafts, collector of oil lamps, giver and a doer.