Doing Dishes

In some respects I surf the curl of modern technology, in others I lag behind the wave's crest. And, I must admit, in a few others I am still on the beach.

An example of the latter is my family's failure to adopt automatic dishwashing technology that's been around, oh, since Eisenhower. We do the dishes the old (really old) fashioned way, by hand.

Now, I am sure that 90% of the people in the world do dishes by hand, some of them possibly trekking long distances to riverbanks and ponds for the task. At least I have hot and cold running water piped right into my house, a technology that dates to the Minoans of 1500 BC. So I am not totally behind the times.

But in the US of A, I expect my family is in a distinct minority, dishwashing-wise. So, every time there is a feast of significant proportions, like the Thanksgiving just past, there follows a dishwashing chore commensurate in scale.

If I was wise I would follow behind the cooks in our family and clean whatever they dirtied as soon as they were through with it. But no, I am not that wise. Which inevitably leaves an enormous pile of pots, pans, plates, glasses, and cutlery in need of scrubbing. So many, in fact, after we've hosted a gathering of friends for Thanksgiving, that one look at the pile induces shock. I am rendered helpless and am only cheered by more turkey, stuffing, and wine.

The turkey, stuffing, and especially the wine leave me immobile but reflective. This year it occurred to me that our economic meltdown has much in common to that enormous pile of mouldering dishes in my kitchen. In that it got there by failure to clean as you go. We ignored the accumulating mess and kept on gorging at the table. Inevitably the party ended and we found ourselves with a titanic clean-up task. And a national state of shock.

My point of reflection this Thanksgiving was: are we cleaning up, or in shock/avoidance mode still? Are we immersing our hands in hot water and soap, or numbly sipping wine as the dishes marinate?