Before they invented big-screen televisions and botulism was something you never wanted to find in your food, never mind inject into your first-world wrinkles, Mondays were wash days. There was a comforting rhythm to those days of zero technology – washing, starching, ironing, clean the fridge, clean the stove, wash the floors, church and Sunday dinner. Start again. By the way, my mother didn’t look like the matron in the photo. Mom was more harried and would likely have had a child hanging off one leg as she tried to work. And of course, I’d be right in there under her elbow, whining to ‘help’. Being a pain in the butt is more like it, but she never complained. Looking back on what she…

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