In early 2009 HWY 127 going to Jamestown Tennessee where my parents and my sister Cindy’s family lived became a trail of tears for me. My Mother had many health problems and Dad needed help taking care of her last few months of her life. He and I did our best to care for her but we lost the battle in May 2009 just 3 days short of their 63 anniversary. The following May My sister Cindy Smith succumbed to pneumonia as a complication of pulmonary fibrosis. I wrote this story as a tribute to her life of service to others.
The Wringer Washer
I don’t remember how old we were when this happened but I would guess I was a teenager and she was 10 or 11. We had an old wringer washer on our back porch when we were growing up. For those of you who don’t know what that is look it up on the internet. For the rest of you let’s go down memory lane. The washer was going almost constantly with 4 kids in the house. The clothes line always had clothes on it drying in the Indiana breezes. Cindy was charged this day with running the washed clothes through the wringer to take as much of the water out as possible before hanging them up. Now, Cindy loved pickles and this day she had a whole pickle wrapped in a napkin in her right hand. The napkin was peeled down like a banana peel so she could eat it without dripping pickle juice everywhere. This was probably one of mom’s dill pickles she canned whole. Anyone who has ever operated a wringer washer knows that two hands are needed to get heavy jeans through the wringer. Well, Cindy’s right hand was occupied with her pickle and she wasn’t about to put it down just to run some clothes through the washer! She held her right hand high as she was running the clothes through. It was a pose like the Grand lady that stands in that New York harbor. You know… the Statue of Liberty! She would take a bite of her pickle and grab another piece of clothing and try with one hand to start it through the wringer. She did alright until she got to a pair of jeans. Not only did the cloth go through the wringer her hand did too!
Now, I happened to be outside the back porch in the back yard when I heard this scream like a pig who just got a ring in its nose! I burst through the back door to see what was wrong! There was Cindy, pickle hand still in the Statue of Liberty pose and the other hand in the wringer! I rushed over to the machine and tripped the springs to release her hand. It was red from the rollers trying to wring all the water off her hand along with the skin but nothing was broken. As soon as I saw she wasn’t seriously hurt I reset the springs. I expected her to go in the kitchen and put down the pickle and cry a little to Mom. Instead she took another bite of her pickle and resumed running clothes through the washer!
I used to tease her about this every time we played “remember when” at family get-togethers. I bring it up to you now because, like that Lady in the harbor, it symbolizes her life. Never once in the course of her life did I ever hear her complain. When someone needed something done she was there. When her children needed fed she was there. When the Church needed a bookkeeper she was there. When the Church needed a pianist she was there. She didn’t know the word “no”. When the school needed an overseer she was there. When a child needed help with homework she was there. When everyone was in bed she was burning the midnight oil getting her jobs done. Then she would get up the next day and do it again. What she had was always enough. All the while, even with her hand in the wringer, she held her pickle hand high and let her light shine bright! Our family is going through a dark time, but along with you we must remember the Lady in the harbor and our Cindy, for her light will burn bright in our memories forever as a beacon the way Jesus intended all of us to do. Your suffering is over Sis, Say high to mom for me!
Love, Your Big brother
Written by Daniel L. Fulton
In remembrance of his loving Sister
Cynthia Fulton Smith