John M. Crisp: When work and fun were simple

On Sept. 30, my mom died; we're sad, but not heartbroken.

At 94 years of age, she had come to the natural end of a long, satisfying life. She made a quiet, graceful exit, and we feel lucky to have had her around for so long.

But that's personal. Consider instead the impressive scope of a life that spanned 94 years. When she was born in 1912, women didn't have the right to vote in our country and, in practical terms, many African-Americans were disenfranchised, as well. Today, a woman and a black man are running for president, and a black woman serves as secretary of state.

My mother was old enough to remember firsthand the great influenza epidemic of 1918, which killed more people worldwide than World War I. People died of flu in the tiny East Texas town of Bazette, where she grew up. She remembered seeing her first airplane, whose noise brought her and her mother out into the yard to stare at the amazing sight of heavier-than-air flight.

She remembered the East Texas oil booms of 1924 and 1925, which produced enough royalty from her family's farm that her father walked into town, bought a new Model T Ford for $400 and drove it home, the first time he'd ever driven a car. The modern age had dawned.

She remembered the invention of talking motion pictures, the Depression, Pearl Harbor and the deprivations of World War II. She lived to see flight to the moon, and she traveled all over the world by jet aircraft. Eventually, her four boys bought her a VCR, but she never made the transition to DVD. She never laid a hand on a computer keyboard, but how much of our galloping culture can just one life encompass?

What was it like to grow up in the early 20th century? A few years ago, we asked my mother to write down some of what she remembered. The result is a glance into a way of life characterized by simple, spare pleasures and a great deal of grinding hard work.

For example, here's my mother's matter-of-fact account of the laborious task of providing the family with clean clothes:

"We filled the wash pot with water and cut up some of the homemade lye soap in it. We built a fire around the pot, and while the water was heating we sorted the clothes and rubbed them lightly in a tub of cold water. We rubbed them on a washboard, which was made of corrugated metal set in a wooden frame. When the water was hot we put the first load of clothes in the wash pot and let them boil while we finished the pre-wash on the rest of the clothes. When the clothes had boiled we took them out of the hot water, using a stick to lift them. We put them in a tub of water and rubbed them clean. We rinsed them in a tub of clear water and then in another tub of water with bluing in it to make them white. We had to wring them by hand before putting them in the next tub. The same procedure was followed with each load of clothes until we finished. It took at least a full morning to do the laundry."

And then they ironed.

"Sometimes in the hot weather, we would set up a bed in the yard. ... One of my most pleasant memories is sitting on the bed or on the front porch in the dark -- no TV, no radio, just quiet talk."

We'll miss her. But I also feel a vague regret for the world she described -- not for the drudgery, but for the simplicity.

John M. Crisp teaches in the English Department at Del Mar College in Corpus Christi, Texas. He wrote this article for Scripps Howard News Service.