In the early 1960s my parents managed to squeak into a three-bedroom, one and a half-bath, home for a family of five. Among the possessions moved in was my mother’s Kelvinator refrigerator. It was the one item that always managed to survive a growing family. My parents purchased it from a relative who ran an appliance store.
They were proud of their new home. My father immediately began working on the lawn. My mother began a monthly home cleaning routine with the precision of an efficiency expert. I began to realize that each room in the house was on a dedicated schedule for deep cleaning – window dressing taken down and cleaned, baseboards and walls scrubbed, and everything back in place by evening.
The refrigerator had a full day dedicated to it. We always knew the day was coming when the freezer compartment began to look like the white peaks of Mount Everest. Any food in the freezer was thawed, prepared, and cooked before the event.
On the day of the deep clean, the metal trays, filled with ice cubes covered in white crust, were removed. The levers designed to free the ice were pried back. If that didn’t work, the trays were placed in the sink for the ice to melt. The main bathroom was commandeered for the rest of the day. The only proper way to clean the interior shelves was a good soak in the bathtub.
Life was pleasant and routine until the day my father came home and announced we were moving from the rolling hills of the Piedmont to the flat farmland east of Raleigh, North Carolina.
There were few houses for sale at the time. Those that were available were old and needed additional repair. My parents were directed to an area outside of the city where some new homes were being built. They found a lot for sale and construction began.
In the new living situation, we found it difficult to adapt. Much like Neal Armstrong might have felt as he walked on the moon that summer, we felt far away from everything and everyone. It was comforting to know that Mama’s Kelvinator stood tall in the new kitchen.
Within a year, Daddy came home and announced the company had closed. We were living in a place we did not want to be. He held a family meeting. Should he look for work in South Carolina, where our mother’s family lived, or move back to the Greensboro area? It was a tough decision because there were people we cared about in both places. Our unanimous choice was Greensboro.
Daddy found a new job in a small town north of Greensboro. We prepared to move while searching for a place to live between Greensboro and Reidsville. Our old friends in Greensboro invited us into their homes so we could look for another house. One of the neighborhood children knew of a perfect place.
“Why don’t you buy your old house back?” he asked. “They’re moving.”
That afternoon, Daddy sat at the owner’s kitchen table and negotiated a deal. They handwrote a basic sales contract. Two of our neighbors witnessed the agreement. We were coming home.
Back at the house that was built the year before, all of our possessions were loaded on the moving van with the exception of one. During that year the house settled, causing a corner of the upper cabinet to rest on the top of the Kelvinator.
My mother handled the situation exceptionally well. She calmly stated to everyone within hearing distance, “I just don’t see any way we can move that refrigerator without messing up the cabinet.”
Donna B. Roach ©2023. All Rights Reserved