AS a child, I helped my mother hang laundry in our backyard in Tamaqua, Pa.,
a small coal mining town. My job was handing up the clothespins. When everything
was dry, I helped her fold the sheets in a series of moves that resembled
ballroom dancing.
The clothes and linens always smelled so fresh. Everything about the laundry was
fun. My brother and I played hide-and-seek in the rows of billowing white
sheets.
I remember this as I’m studying energy-saving tips from Al Gore, who says that
when you have time, you should use a clothesline to dry your clothes instead of
the dryer.
A clothesline. It strikes me that I haven’t seen one since 1991, when I moved to
Rolling Hills, Calif., a gated community about an hour south of Los Angeles.
There are rolling hills, ranch houses, sweeping views of the ocean and rocky
cliffs — plenty of room — but not a single visible clothesline.
I decide to rig a clothesline as an ...