Hanging it all out at the holidays

12/3/2025

My mom was a hoarder. And I don’t say that harshly. Listen, I’ve got my own problems. And my mom was not the worst hoarder I’ve ever seen. But her home does make for quite the excavation as we prep her house to sell after her death. For example, over there on that far wall in the basement are hundreds of cottage cheese containers in case you need somewhere to put that leftover turkey. And here are old newspapers dating back 40 years that, as my mom used to say may (or may not!) contain important information. And what if you suddenly want to can 200 jars of tomatoes? I’ve got the canner and the jars and the lids just for you.

Ah, but look there. In the back room of the basement. Yup, on the floor sits an old white enamel bucket. I recognize it immediately. It’s full of clothespins. 

Hmmm…

My dad bolted the crossbeam down with heavy nuts and washers. Then he painted it with sealant hoping it would withstand the Iowa elements. My 11-year-old self trailed him like a disciple as he carried the cross on his shoulders out to the backyard where he dug two deep holes with a post hole digger. He slid two posts into the holes and packed them with concrete. A day later, he strung six lines between the two, and then he placed under the lines a white enamel bucket full of clothespins. Voila, a clothesline for a family of 10.  

I have loved clotheslines ever since. From a weathered clothesline next to an old Iowa farm house to a clothesline strung between windows in an alley in Lille, France. From sheets flapping like landed fish to stiff jeans acrobatically hanging upside down. Circular clotheslines, retractable clotheslines, clotheslines on pulleys. They all work for me.

Look, there’s my mom stringing clothes in 1953 while living in married college housing in Ames.  

And here’s another. Forget the gondoliers in Venice, my tourist attractions were the clotheslines above the canals. 

And closer to home, my neighbor is clearly channeling clotheslines at Halloween — nothing spookier than wind blowing ghostly sheets in the distance.

Which gets us to the point — you still haven’t bought a gift for that person who seems to have everything. Oh my. And it’s even harder to decide the appropriate gift because they always give you something meaningful. Ouch. Well, I have the answer. Today only. Rock bottom prices. And they are going fast…

A clothesline. 

Why a clothesline? Hah, I’m so glad you asked. 

First, clotheslines are romantic. The sensuous waiving of the clothes in the wind has been a favorite of artists for forever, from Andrew Wyeth’s “Light Wash” painting to John Sloan’s “A Woman’s Work.” And, yes, if there is a figure in the painting, it is almost always a woman. I’m so sorry. But YOU can flip that outdated dynamic on its head and give a clothesline to that discerning man in your life. It’s time, folks. So, give a gift that is sensuous while at the same time fighting the patriarchy.

Second, using a clothesline is just healthier. Let’s just look at plastics. If clothes that stretch have plastic in them, then putting any of those items in the dryer to heat up and agitate isn’t a good idea. And on top of the plastic issue, the clothes just smell better when they dry outside. And, no matter how you slice it, adding “freshening” fabric softeners or scent beads or scent boosters to your dryer load is like adding flavorings to your coffee. Don’t.

Finally, the clothesline pushes you into nature. You start thinking about things like humidity and light and temperature. Where is the sun today? Is there a breeze? Is it so humid my clothes might actually get even more damp? See, isn’t that fun? Or, try this, flash freeze that shirt into a scarecrow when you hang it out in late January. Why not? And, while frozen, the shirt makes for an agreeable dinner companion. Trust me.

Enough? I’m so glad I was able to help with your holiday shopping. But, I’ve still got my own problems — this chipped enamel bucket of wooden clothespins that dates back 60 years or more. Every clothespin in the bucket was surely touched by my mom and dad and probably all of my siblings, some alive and some dead. Voices from the past.

But, maybe that points to the real gift you should give at the holidays. The real “hanging it all out.” The clothespins are a reminder to raise a glass not only to those at the table, but those not at the table. To honor those present and to honor those absent. Grandmas and grandpas. Mothers and fathers. Brothers and sisters. Lovers and dear friends. 

So, take off your ball cap, set down your phone, put away the laundry and clothespins, and raise your glass: May they all be eating pumpkin pie in heaven. 

And now wipe that tear and pass the pumpkin pie so that we can experience heaven — as the old Irish saying goes — before the devil realizes his mistake. ♦

Joe Weeg spent 31 years bumping around this town as a prosecutor for the Polk County Attorney’s Office. Now retired, he writes about the frequently overlooked people, places and events in Des Moines on his blog: www.joesneighborhood.com.