My cousin, Linda, posted a picture earlier today on facebook, asking if anyone remembered using one. I do, but that is not what dragged me back into blogdom.
Family lore. I love family lore. I have no idea if this story is true or not as I was not born when it takes place but I heard it a lot of times and, since my parents NEVER lied, it must be true.
There are 4 of us kids. Mary, the oldest, has a lot of hair but it is very fine. Dorothy has gorgeous, thick, wavy hair and mine is just shy of being as thick as hers. My brother, unfortunately, took after Dad. Thin hair, thinning.
Whenever the subject of hair texture came up, my Mom would tell us about when Mary and Dorothy were little and they were back in Iowa visiting on the farm. I don't know whose farm. I don't even know which side of the family except I think it must have been Mom's side because she was amused rather than incensed.
My sister, Dorothy, was in the milking barn and fell in the cow gutter. Yep, covered in everything that is in a cow gutter. She was crying and dirty and nasty and smelly and one of the "boys" went to take her up to the house. My grandma, looking at this filthy, smelly child decreed that she was not coming into the house in that condition.
So, in the middle of winter, or so the story goes, my sister was forcibly held under the outdoor water pump and watered down until she was deemed clean enough to go into Grandma's house.
And forever after, the reason that Dorothy has the best hair out of the four of us is that it was fertilized!