WHEN THE WASHER DIES,
THE BELL TOLLS
Journal of Healing – Aug. 27, 2003
By Mary Koch

Russell, who can fix anything fixable, left an ominous note on the kitchen counter:

"Sorry. I did the best I could."

Desperate, I called for a second opinion. The washing machine repairman pronounced last rites: Dead motor. Repair would be almost as expensive as buying a new washer.

"Well," I sighed. "It’s about 10 years old. I guess we’ve gotten our money’s worth."

He peered at the serial number.

"1983," he announced.

I couldn’t believe it had been that long.

"T-w-e-n-t-y y-e-a-r-s," my husband agreed, spelling it out with eyeblinks. He has a better memory than I. So we really had gotten our money’s worth.

Caring for someone who is totally paralyzed requires a lot of laundry. To protect against skin breakdown, every piece of clothing and linen must be clean. We put fresh sheets and pads on John’s bed daily. We go through stacks of wash cloths and towels, plus there are the extra pillows for propping and cushioning. I fall asleep every night to the chugging of the washing machine as John’s overnight caregiver attacks the daily mound of laundry.

* * *

I WASTED NO TIME before shopping for a new washer. One trip to the laundromat required a stack of 50 quarters to wash three days’ worth of laundry.

I was determined to get the cheapest possible, no-frills machine. The salesman did his best to waltz me around the store, pointing out the bells and whistles on a dozen different models. I focussed solely on price tags. I was about to sign up for a low-cost machine when a fragment of the sales pitch finally caught my attention.

"This one takes 60 gallons of water per load?" I repeated.

"Right."

"And the one over there that costs three times as much uses how many gallons?"

"Twenty."

The middle of the summer in the middle of a drought is a heckuva time to buy a washing machine. I thought about the river barely flowing past our house, water level lower than I’ve ever seen it. Every time we started up the washer, we’d be drawing three times as much water as we needed. How would I ever sleep?

I began to think about water shortages all over the world. I wondered what people in Iraq could do with that extra 40 gallons of water that I’d be sending down the drain. I wished there were a way to send it to them.

* * *

I BOUGHT THE expensive, energy- and water-saving model. Based on my 50-quarter trip to the laundromat, it will pay for itself in 10 months. Sooner actually, since the PUD will give me a $50 rebate.

The new washer also has all kinds of extra features. I’ve had an attack of cleanliness, throwing everything but the cat into the machine. She keeps her distance.

As I reveled in domestic bliss and my socially responsible decision, John was listening to a taped version of Hemingway’s classic, "For Whom the Bell Tolls." The title is drawn from John Donne’s essay, written in 1623, about how connected we humans are: "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main."

Only in America can we buy a new, luxury appliance and pat ourselves on the back for saving the world. I’m not quite that puffed up. I know my 40 gallons of water saved is just a drop in the bucket.