HispanicVista Columnists

By Herman Sillas

It’s tough to believe that you can live with the same wife for forty-eight years and still find she has secrets. I thought I had discovered all of them by now. For example, she had convinced me that I didn’t pay attention to her clothes and jewelry. Every time, I thought I saw her with a new dress or piece of jewelry, I’d ask, "Is that new?"

She’d look at me as if I was a victim of Alzheimer’s disease and say, "Herman, I can’t believe you. I’ve had this for a long time. You just never pay any attention to what I wear." I’d shrug my shoulders thinking I was just another inattentive husband.

Then a couple of years ago while we were in Hawaii, she and my daughter-in-law, Karen had gone shopping. Cora returned allegedly empty handed, but had bought me a book. What a thoughtful wife. Later that day, Karen dropped by wearing a new necklace. I complimented her on her selection. "Has Mom shown you what she got?" she asked innocently.

"Noooo," I answered as Cora entered the room. She reluctantly admitted that she had purchased a rather expensive necklace. Using my lawyer’s skills as a cross examiner, she confessed that she hadn’t intended to tell me that day. She would have worn it some time later and if I commented about it, she would have truthfully said, "I have had this for a long time. You never pay any attention to what I wear."

Well, recently I discovered another secret. Cora is a segregationist. After all these years, we being of the old school, each have certain duties which we perform for the other. Cora washes and dries our clothes. Last Friday, she requested that I get my dirty socks together and place them in the washer. We have a stackable washer and dryer. I dutifully gathered up my soiled socks which are all dark in color. Then, I placed them in the unit that already had dark colored clothes in it and returned to my desk.

Within the hour, Cora, let me know that I had put my socks in the dryer. I laughed at my stupidity. That evening, I related the story to Phil, my son, and Karen. We all laughed and Cora added, "He put his dirty socks with my clean clothes. I never mix our clothes like that. I wash and dry them separately."

As I lay in bed that evening, I began thinking about what Cora had said. She segregates our clothes. I never knew that. There is no reason that I can think of as to why our clothes can’t be integrated in the washing machine. Is the soil that I get on my clothes any dirtier than that clinging to her apparel? What about the dryer, when the clothes are clean? Can’t they be integrated there? Is she afraid my guys will attack her undies? What’s a little tumble in the bin going to do? Give birth to new clothes? But the segregation continues even after the clothes are dry. They remain separate in equal sized drawers and in individual closets. How many other marriages have a segregation policy?

If men and women’s clothing had a chance to mix in the washer and dryer, wouldn’t it bring a better understanding between those that wear them? Listen, marriages need all the help they can get to make them work in this day and age. It wouldn’t hurt the process if the clothes we wear had a chance to mix it up after an outing.

I brought this to Cora’s attention. Her answer was, "You can wash your clothes if you want." When she put it that way, I dropped the matter. She’s entitled to one secret.

That’s the view from the pier.

___________________________________________

Herman Sillas, a San Clemente resident and L.A. attorney, can be found most early weekend mornings fishing at the pier.