Airing dirty laundry

When I was growing up we did not have clothes dryers. When the clothes were washed in a tub or a washing machine or a lake or stream then they were hung out to dry on a fence or a rock or a tree branch or a clothesline or a rack indoors. 

People wanted to show how white their sheets and other items were to the neighbors who might see the wash hanging on the clothesline. Most prudent housekeepers would hang the lingerie and other underwear in between the sheets so they would not be seen by the neighbors. 

No one would be caught hanging out dirty laundry. It was not proper and showed a lack of propriety and respect. 

Now we use the term in a different sense. We refer to exposing errors and improprieties in an individual’s behavior as airing dirty laundry. 

There is a lot of that going on right now. Almost every day in the news or on social media someone feels like they need to tell some juicy bit of gossip or reveal a person's past errors or indiscretions. 

Well meaning people even reveal things about family members that are better off left unsaid. We have had to listen to sacrament talks where the speaker told about their child's sexual behavior. I could have gone an eternity without that information. Recently a father called a news conference and revealed his daughter's moral problems for everyone to be privy to. 

One of my favorite quotes from one of our favorite movies, ‘Bridge of Spies’ is "Would it help?” 

It also is very similar to a reply to me from Elder Boyd K. Packer. When I was stake president a member came to me to confess a transgression that happened prior to their marriage. They wanted to know if they needed to tell their spouse. I was unsure as to what to tell them. In those days we did not have the organization that exists in the church today. I called the church office building and asked to speak to a general authority. They put me through to Elder Packer. I explained the situation and he said, “What good would it do?"

Airing dirty laundry does not do any good and does not help. It is not proper and shows a lack of propriety and respect. 

Love,

Grandpa

The story of the atropine rabbit

Why this post?

My wife Alice goes on Facebook on her iPad.  She just noted that our long time friends Helen and Ronald Hall just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. We got married the same year. She congratulated them with a post and mentioned the atropine rabbit.

This is the story.

This happened the second year that I was in medical school and we were studying pharmacology.

We had moved from our apartment on University Avenue to 419 Beta Street in Stadium Village, the married student housing at the University of Utah. We had some friends who were with us in Bishop Oscar McConkie’s ward when we live in Mrs. Cora Balliff’s basement at 240 University Street.

They were Helen and Ronald Hall. They also wanted to move to Stadium Village. We invited them to come and look at our apartment. 

One day I was in the laboratory in pharmacology. We were doing an experiment to demonstrate the effects of atropine. We were using a rabbit as the experimental animal. We anesthetized the rabbit with ether and performed the experiment and got the desired results. Then we had to decide what to do with the rabbit. It had its abdomen open and so needed to be sacrificed. As medical students we were always looking for a free meal. I don’t remember how I got the rabbit, but I think I won it from my lab partners. I dressed it out, skinned it and took it home for us to eat. 

I had raised rabbits and slaughtered them and sold them to Safeway when I was living at home in Lander, so I was well acquainted with the process. 

We had invited the Halls to dinner and to look at our apartment. We told them that the rabbit had been the recipient of an injection of atropine and asked them if they had any hesitation about eating the rabbit. Helen was a nurse and she said that she was not afraid of the atropine and would eat rabbit with us. 

I cut up the rabbit as I had done before and Alice fried it. I looked appetizing. 

Then we tasted the rabbit. It was inedible. The ether used to put our rabbit to sleep had permeated all the fat cells in the animal. We felt sheepish to say the least. The meal was a disaster. 

Fortunately that did not dampen our friendship. We have been almost like family. We have tended each other's children, exchanged emails and visited from time to time. 

Although we have been known as food snobs. This shows that friendship trumps a memorable meal.