Comp drawn by Claudia Barac-Roth
When we reach the destination, I breathe more lightly, but who’s to say I may not breathe with ease along the way?
I saw mentioned with admiration in an obit for a very old woman in Northern Minnesota, a Swedish-American wife for many, many years, that on the day of her death, all of her husband’s shirts were meticulously pressed. A friend, a Minnesotan and Swedish-American herself – next generation, thankfully – remarked, “On the day I die, I hope none of my husband’s shirts are pressed.”
Where I grew up, Wisconsin, another state filled with Scandinavian-Americans who rate one’s worth on outward appearances, the orderliness of a woman’s clothing on the line determined her merit as a citizen. Nowadays, my midwestern life long behind me and living in an era where “house” and “work” find their way into sentences only when they accompany the word “help”, I hang my laundry inside. To be accurate, accuracy being another virtue in Midwestern communities, “toss”, “dangle” or “fling” would be words more on the mark than “hang”.
Photo by Michael Pohuski, Art Direction by Claudia Barac-Roth, Styling by Lisa Cherkasky
The Lunch Encounter 