Bathing
I was determined to bathe today. That determination is founded not so much on personal hygiene, you understand, as on societal norms.
Bathing in ancient Rome was a mandatory and public affair in the baths provided to the citizens for that purpose. Then came along the Christian church which promulgated the view that time was better spent in the church than the bathhouse. Dirt became a symbol of one's spiritual purity and indicated that the focus was outside one's self, rather than on personal hygiene. Refusing to bathe was proof one was beyond such things and thus not egotistical or self absorbed. The bath house business took a hit, never to return.
Bathing in America before the advent of running water was a sometime affair, limited mostly to warm weather months. Indeed, it was well into the 20th century before bathrooms became common in houses. In the case of my grandparents, it was not until sometime around 1955 that they sawed off one end of the kitchen table in order that indoor facilities could be added.
Anyhow, my current plight returns me to days of yore and gives me a clear understanding of why bathing was not an everyday affair.
Which somehow (maybe the fifteen baths a day) reminds me of Bob Dylan and "I Shall Be Free" which, in a tribute to Wm Faulkner (nee Falkner) and Jack Kerouac and the stream-of-consciousness writing style, I hereby repeat for your enjoyment.
Wonderful stuff.
Anyhow, I waited for first light this morning before heading out to the wellhead to thaw the temporary piping to which I connect the water hose. The air temperature was 14°F at the time and I first attempted to thaw the pipes with the infrared heat lamp I keep burning in the wellhead housing. When I got back with the water hoses (stored in the basement) the lamp had slipped and melted one of the plastic pipes about a foot from the hose connection which, naturally, was still frozen solid with ice. Now, folks, making an adhesive connection of plastic pipes and fittings at 14°F is a trick. The recommended temperature is 50°F plus. So, taking water from the toilet tank and heating it on the stove, I wrapped a towel around the pipe and poured the water over the towel. This simultaneously cured the adhesive and thawed the frozen water in the pipe. Then following normal procedures (connect hose to wellhead and water tank, open drain valve, turn on pump) I had running water in the house a short hour and a half later!
With great anticipation I adjourned to the bathroom for my first bath in three days ... only to find that I had turned the hot water heater OFF at some point in time. What to do? (I's high flyin', bare naked ...Out the window). At 14°F water in a garden hose will freeze in minutes and long before the water in the hot water heater is hot enough for a bath. So, I run water down the drain at a rate sufficient to avoid freezing the garden hose. Then I takealongshowerwashthedishesandaloadofunderwear(nowinshortsupply)andfillcontainerswithwaterforfutureuse before reversing the process and returning the hoses to the basement.
I feel good ... like I knew I would.
And, ole Dan'l Boone would have laughed his ass off.
Bathing in ancient Rome was a mandatory and public affair in the baths provided to the citizens for that purpose. Then came along the Christian church which promulgated the view that time was better spent in the church than the bathhouse. Dirt became a symbol of one's spiritual purity and indicated that the focus was outside one's self, rather than on personal hygiene. Refusing to bathe was proof one was beyond such things and thus not egotistical or self absorbed. The bath house business took a hit, never to return.
Bathing in America before the advent of running water was a sometime affair, limited mostly to warm weather months. Indeed, it was well into the 20th century before bathrooms became common in houses. In the case of my grandparents, it was not until sometime around 1955 that they sawed off one end of the kitchen table in order that indoor facilities could be added.
Anyhow, my current plight returns me to days of yore and gives me a clear understanding of why bathing was not an everyday affair.
Which somehow (maybe the fifteen baths a day) reminds me of Bob Dylan and "I Shall Be Free" which, in a tribute to Wm Faulkner (nee Falkner) and Jack Kerouac and the stream-of-consciousness writing style, I hereby repeat for your enjoyment.
Well, I took me a woman late last night
I's three-fourths drunk she looked all right
'Til she started peelin' off her onion gook
She took off her wig, said, "How do I look" ?
I's high flyin', bare naked ...Out the window.
Well, sometimes I might get drunk
Walk like a duck and smell like a skunk
Don't hurt me none, don't hurt my pride
'Cause I got my little lady right by my side
(She's a tryin' a hide pretendin'
She don't know me).
I's out there paintin' on the old wood shed
When a can a black paint it fell on my head
I went down to scrub and rub
But I had to sit in back of the tub
(Cost a quarter
Half price).
Well, my telephone rang it would not stop
It's President Kennedy callin' me up
He said, "My friend, Bob, what do we need to make the country grow" ?
I said, "My friend, John, "Brigitte Bardot,
Anita Ekberg
Sophia Loren"
Country'll grow.
Well, I got a woman five feet short
She yells and hollers and squeals and snorts
She tickles my nose pats me on the head
Blows me over and kicks me out of bed
(She's a man eater
Meat grinder
Bad looser).
Oh, there ain't no use in me workin' alla time
I got a woman who works herself blind
Works up to her britches, up to her neck
Write me letters and sends me checks
(She's a humdinger
Folk singer).
Late one day in the middle of the week
Eyes were closed I was half asleep
I chased me a woman up the hill
Right in the middle of an air drill
(I jumped a fallout shelter
I jumped the string bean
I jumped the TV dinner
I jumped the shot gun).
Now, the man on the stand he wants my vote
He's a-runnin' for office on the ballot note
He's out there preachin' in front of the steeple
Tellin' me he loves all kinds-a people
(He's eatin' bagels
He's eatin' pizza
He's eatin' chitlins).
Oh, set me down on a television floor
I'll flip the channel to number four
Out of the shower comes a football man
With a bottle of oil in his hand
(Greasy kid stuff
What I want to know, Mr. Football Man, is
What do you do about Willy Mays
Martin Luther King
Olatunji).
Well, the funniest woman I ever seen
Was the great-granddaughter of Mr. Clean
She takes about fifteen baths a day
Wants me to grow a moustache on my face
(She's insane).
Well, ask me why I'm drunk alla time
It levels my head and eases my mind
I just walk along and stroll and sing
I see better days and I do better things
(I catch dinosaurs
I make love to Elizabeth Taylor ...
Catch hell from Richard Burton !).
Wonderful stuff.
Anyhow, I waited for first light this morning before heading out to the wellhead to thaw the temporary piping to which I connect the water hose. The air temperature was 14°F at the time and I first attempted to thaw the pipes with the infrared heat lamp I keep burning in the wellhead housing. When I got back with the water hoses (stored in the basement) the lamp had slipped and melted one of the plastic pipes about a foot from the hose connection which, naturally, was still frozen solid with ice. Now, folks, making an adhesive connection of plastic pipes and fittings at 14°F is a trick. The recommended temperature is 50°F plus. So, taking water from the toilet tank and heating it on the stove, I wrapped a towel around the pipe and poured the water over the towel. This simultaneously cured the adhesive and thawed the frozen water in the pipe. Then following normal procedures (connect hose to wellhead and water tank, open drain valve, turn on pump) I had running water in the house a short hour and a half later!
With great anticipation I adjourned to the bathroom for my first bath in three days ... only to find that I had turned the hot water heater OFF at some point in time. What to do? (I's high flyin', bare naked ...Out the window). At 14°F water in a garden hose will freeze in minutes and long before the water in the hot water heater is hot enough for a bath. So, I run water down the drain at a rate sufficient to avoid freezing the garden hose. Then I takealongshowerwashthedishesandaloadofunderwear(nowinshortsupply)andfillcontainerswithwaterforfutureuse before reversing the process and returning the hoses to the basement.
I feel good ... like I knew I would.
And, ole Dan'l Boone would have laughed his ass off.
That the bath house business slowly declined in the latter days of the Roman Empire cannot be denied, and it shouldn't be a surprise. To stink is Christian!
ReplyDeleteHowever, in the late Middle Ages in central Europe the bath house was reappearing and enjoyed a lot of popularity with the town folks. Practically every town had one or more bath houses. In Germany, the man who ran the bath house was the Bader (bath = Bad). It was a mixed sex affair, men and women were sitting together in big wooden tubs, the Bader and his family were providing hot water, and besides getting a little cleaner, the Bader's daughters and additional female personell provided personal services to those who didn't come with their favorite partner to sit in the tub with. The Bader was also providing medical services, and way into the nineteenth century, when somebody couldn't afford a regular medical doctor, the went to see the Bader. The Bader at that later times, however, was normally the local barber, and that applies mostly to smaller country towns and villages.
Of course, the church didn't like very much what was going on in the bath houses and the tubs, and it didn't take the bath house and the entire Bader business very long to become a "dishonest" occupation.