Swish

My grandmother, perhaps the most fastidious housekeeper God ever created, nevertheless had a six-inch-deep catch-all drawer in the family room, the top drawer of a chest containing otherwise boring material.

If she’d been an ordinary Grandma, I guess she would have called it a junk drawer, but junk drawers typically are located in the kitchen, and she was anything but ordinary.

She called it her “swishing drawer.”

Grandma’s swishing drawer was the only storage recepticle in the home which we were allowed to mess with, but don’t get me wrong. The swishing drawer was fraught with adventure, pregnant with discovery, and perilous with common household danger.

For some reason, even though she had a vanity in her bedroom which held her make-up, perfume, and false eyelashes, the swishing drawer overflowed with nail polishes and manicure stuff. Scissors, tweezers, emory boards both new and ancient, cuticle pusher-downers, and the most audacious colors you can imagine.

“Tangerine,” “Red Hot Pepper,” “Coral Reef,” “Wine and Roses,” and “Sand Dune.” And, of course, so that she could at least occasionally pretend to be sedate: “Clear.”

I loved to pull out all the little bottles and line them up on top of the chest, from the least crazy to the most “out there.” Once I had the bottles out of the way, the in-depth swishing could begin.

There were packages of a thousand triangle-shaped black “corners” she considered using to attach snapshots to photo album pages. I say considered because the swishing drawer was filled with photos, some in their original Kodak envelopes, and some strays all on their own. I don’t think she ever actually mounted any of them in albums.

Little round hole-punch reinforcements with sticky glue on the back skittered through the drawer with abandon, though I can’t honestly remember Grandma having a three-ring binder.

Embroidery floss, crochet hooks, knitting needles, and a darning egg whetted my appetite for the needlecrafts, and hardly a visit to Grandma’s ended without her helping me learn a new skill.

But that would happen in the afternoon, after her chores were done. In the morning, it was just me and the drawer. She’d set up her ironing board in the kitchen and pretty soon I’d hear her running a sinkful of water. She’d be a while, I knew, once she started making up the starch in the sink and dipping Grandpa’s dress shirts in the concoction.

“You OK in there, Kate?” she’d call.

“I’m fine,” I’d say. “Just swishing.”

“Well, have fun.”

I’d plunge both hands in and swish my way through handkerchiefs, tiny packages of Kleenex, batteries, an address book, a crossword puzzle dictionary, a magnifying glass, a book of stamps, paper clips, a pocketwatch, newspaper clippings about people dead and alive and medical conditions I sure hoped she didn’t have, bookmarks, a coin purse with a few Buffalo nickels and a couple $2 bills inside, and a rubber-banded stack of letters addressed to “Carl and Bernice Pattengale, Grandview, Missouri.”

Yesterday, when I visited Mom in the nursing home, she asked me about a watch that had gone missing. My Mom is perhaps the most lackadaisical housekeeper God ever made, so I’m not surprised that she’s lost something.

“I haven’t seen it since you were in the hospital,” I said.

“It’s got to be here somewhere, Katy. See that top drawer of the night stand? Go swishing…”

So I swished and swished, digging up get-well cards from cousins in Scotland and empty candy wrappers, and manicure scissiors and emory boards, both new and ancient. There was an address book, a few newspaper clippings, and a coin purse made to look like a beaded slot machine.

I felt like a curious little girl again, my mother playing the part of Grandma.

I didn’t find the watch she’s missing, but I found something much more important. I found out that some things aren’t meant to change, and swishing drawers are one of them.

“It’s not here, Mom,” I finally said, worried she’d be frustrated.

“I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “But wasn’t that fun?”

Posted by Katy on 10/15/05 at 10:22 AM

Fallible Comments...

Great story... thanks for making me smile! (o:
Posted by Pattie on 10/15/05 at 07:04 PM
I loved this post! I need to make a swishing drawer for my grandkids as they get older.

In our house is was my mom's purse. Always something interesting in there....
Posted by Ginger on 10/16/05 at 07:38 AM
Love it :) Love that you have so many beautiful memories of your Grandmother. Hummmmm, perhaps it would be a good idea to condense the size of the "swishing space" in my home from the expanse of my whole house to a drawer!!! hehehehehe :)
Posted by Ame on 10/16/05 at 01:55 PM
Katy, those junk (swishing) drawers are like treasure hunts when we're kids. I remember finding those same black photo corners, too...and those sticky binder paper reinforcements! Some things are too good to throw away, even if they're not used, I guess.

I love your writing--you paint with words!
Posted by Bonnie on 10/16/05 at 08:03 PM
I am so having a swishing drawer.

Thank you.
Posted by Lynn on 10/16/05 at 09:22 PM
I'll tell you what's fun...

It's your mum!

Thank you for all the great stories of her, I just love them...
Posted by eija on 10/17/05 at 12:30 PM
i feel as though I went swishing today in the great deep cyberdrawer and came up with this exquisite story of yours. oh, how i handled it and handled it, and held it up to the light just to get a better look!
Posted by anna on 10/18/05 at 04:13 PM
Pattie--I'm glad you liked it! Now get back to swishing... :)

Ginger--Ooooh, purses! They can be wonderful. My grandmother always kept a crisp $100 bill in her purse. That, and her "charge-a-plate" to the Jones Store. The $100 bucks fascinates me to this day...

Ame--Me, too!! And then I tried to compulsively organize my junk drawer one day a year ago. It's so organized now that it's NO FUN at all! I never open that drawer! (It's the only organized space in my house, though.)

Bonnie--Those words of writing encouragement, coming from you, mean a lot! I am really enjoying visiting your site, as well. Your photography and writing are wonderful!

Lynn--You are young! You can do this thing! I promise you that a swishing drawer will change not only your life, but everyone who shares you joy of swishing...

eija--My mum is fun, though yesterday she had five crying jags in the span of 15 minutes. She said, "Life is weird, and the older you get, the weirder it gets." Hard to argue with someone who has so much experience! :)

Anna--I had to read your comment to my hubby!! We loved the "great deep cyberdrawer"! You have a wonderful way of putting things, I'm thinking. Welcome!
Posted by Katy on 10/18/05 at 04:31 PM
What?? No men among those who comment here have a swishing drawer? Or is it that you just won't admit to swishing? Come on! I dare you!
Posted by Katy on 10/18/05 at 04:32 PM
Hey, Katie - I love how you comment on our comments - feels like you hear us - thanks, I really like that :) Ann
Posted by Ame on 10/18/05 at 09:32 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Swish My grandmother, perhaps the most fastidious housekeeper God ever created, nevertheless had a six-inch-deep catch-all drawer in the family room, the top drawer of a chest containing otherwise boring material. If she’d been an ordinary Grandma, I guess she would have called it a junk drawer, but junk drawers typically are located in the kitchen, and she was anything but ordinary. She called it her “swishing drawer.” Grandma’s swishing drawer was the only storage recepticle in the home which we were allowed to mess with, but don’t get me wrong. The swishing drawer was fraught with adventure, pregnant with discovery, and perilous with common household danger. For some reason, even though she had a vanity in her bedroom which held her make-up, perfume, and false eyelashes, the swishing drawer overflowed with nail polishes and manicure stuff. Scissors, tweezers, emory boards both new and ancient, cuticle pusher-downers, and the most audacious colors you can imagine. “Tangerine,” “Red Hot Pepper,” “Coral Reef,” “Wine and Roses,” and “Sand Dune.” And, of course, so that she could at least occasionally pretend to be sedate: “Clear.” I loved to pull out all the little bottles and line them up on top of the chest, from the least crazy to the most “out there.” Once I had the bottles out of the way, the in-depth swishing could begin. There were packages of a thousand triangle-shaped black “corners” she considered using to attach snapshots to photo album pages. I say considered because the swishing drawer was filled with photos, some in their original Kodak envelopes, and some strays all on their own. I don’t think she ever actually mounted any of them in albums. Little round hole-punch reinforcements with sticky glue on the back skittered through the drawer with abandon, though I can’t honestly remember Grandma having a three-ring binder. Embroidery floss, crochet hooks, knitting needles, and a darning egg whetted my appetite for the needlecrafts, and hardly a visit to Grandma’s ended without her helping me learn a new skill. But that would happen in the afternoon, after her chores were done. In the morning, it was just me and the drawer. She’d set up her ironing board in the kitchen and pretty soon I’d hear her running a sinkful of water. She’d be a while, I knew, once she started making up the starch in the sink and dipping Grandpa’s dress shirts in the concoction. “You OK in there, Kate?” she’d call. “I’m fine,” I’d say. “Just swishing.” “Well, have fun.” I’d plunge both hands in and swish my way through handkerchiefs, tiny packages of Kleenex, batteries, an address book, a crossword puzzle dictionary, a magnifying glass, a book of stamps, paper clips, a pocketwatch, newspaper clippings about people dead and alive and medical conditions I sure hoped she didn’t have, bookmarks, a coin purse with a few Buffalo nickels and a couple $2 bills inside, and a rubber-banded stack of letters addressed to “Carl and Bernice Pattengale, Grandview, Missouri.” Yesterday, when I visited Mom in the nursing home, she asked me about a watch that had gone missing. My Mom is perhaps the most lackadaisical housekeeper God ever made, so I’m not surprised that she’s lost something. “I haven’t seen it since you were in the hospital,” I said. “It’s got to be here somewhere, Katy. See that top drawer of the night stand? Go swishing…” So I swished and swished, digging up get-well cards from cousins in Scotland and empty candy wrappers, and manicure scissiors and emory boards, both new and ancient. There was an address book, a few newspaper clippings, and a coin purse made to look like a beaded slot machine. I felt like a curious little girl again, my mother playing the part of Grandma. I didn’t find the watch she’s missing, but I found something much more important. I found out that some things aren’t meant to change, and swishing drawers are one of them. “It’s not here, Mom,” I finally said, worried she’d be frustrated. “I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “But wasn’t that fun?” Posted by Katy on 10/15/05 at 10:22 AM Fallible Comments... Great story... thanks for making me smile! (o: Posted by Pattie on 10/15/05 at 07:04 PM I loved this post! I need to make a swishing drawer for my grandkids as they get older. In our house is was my mom's purse. Always something interesting in there.... Posted by Ginger on 10/16/05 at 07:38 AM Love it :) Love that you have so many beautiful memories of your Grandmother. Hummmmm, perhaps it would be a good idea to condense the size of the "swishing space" in my home from the expanse of my whole house to a drawer!!! hehehehehe :) Posted by Ame on 10/16/05 at 01:55 PM Katy, those junk (swishing) drawers are like treasure hunts when we're kids. I remember finding those same black photo corners, too...and those sticky binder paper reinforcements! Some things are too good to throw away, even if they're not used, I guess. I love your writing--you paint with words! Posted by Bonnie on 10/16/05 at 08:03 PM I am so having a swishing drawer. Thank you. Posted by Lynn on 10/16/05 at 09:22 PM I'll tell you what's fun... It's your mum! Thank you for all the great stories of her, I just love them... Posted by eija on 10/17/05 at 12:30 PM i feel as though I went swishing today in the great deep cyberdrawer and came up with this exquisite story of yours. oh, how i handled it and handled it, and held it up to the light just to get a better look! Posted by anna on 10/18/05 at 04:13 PM Pattie--I'm glad you liked it! Now get back to swishing... :) Ginger--Ooooh, purses! They can be wonderful. My grandmother always kept a crisp $100 bill in her purse. That, and her "charge-a-plate" to the Jones Store. The $100 bucks fascinates me to this day... Ame--Me, too!! And then I tried to compulsively organize my junk drawer one day a year ago. It's so organized now that it's NO FUN at all! I never open that drawer! (It's the only organized space in my house, though.) Bonnie--Those words of writing encouragement, coming from you, mean a lot! I am really enjoying visiting your site, as well. Your photography and writing are wonderful! Lynn--You are young! You can do this thing! I promise you that a swishing drawer will change not only your life, but everyone who shares you joy of swishing... eija--My mum is fun, though yesterday she had five crying jags in the span of 15 minutes. She said, "Life is weird, and the older you get, the weirder it gets." Hard to argue with someone who has so much experience! :) Anna--I had to read your comment to my hubby!! We loved the "great deep cyberdrawer"! You have a wonderful way of putting things, I'm thinking. Welcome! Posted by Katy on 10/18/05 at 04:31 PM What?? No men among those who comment here have a swishing drawer? Or is it that you just won't admit to swishing? Come on! I dare you! Posted by Katy on 10/18/05 at 04:32 PM Hey, Katie - I love how you comment on our comments - feels like you hear us - thanks, I really like that :) Ann Posted by Ame on 10/18/05 at 09:32 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: Now That Really IS A Problem! Previous entry: D-Day << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri