Barbara J. Hamby

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On My Soapbox

Today I read that the State of California has banned a certain type of dry cleaning chemical. It has been years since I had anything dry-cleaned. I noticed long ago that the fumes burned my nose and sometimes my skin was irritated when wearing freshly cleaned clothes. Now I own nothing that needs dry cleaning and almost nothing that requires ironing.

Knowing what we know now about all the toxic manufacturing practices that have affected workers’ health over the years, I don’t trust the “experts” that claim dry cleaning employees are not affected by the chemicals they use. Also, every time I walk by a beauty salon with manicurists or a nail salon and whiff the glue odors, I wonder about the people who work in those fumes every day.

I suppose it’s foolish to be concerned about those who need their jobs and probably don’t have much choice about what type of work they do, but I can’t help it. There are, of course, many folks these days who voluntarily ingest excessive amounts of alcohol and drugs, but they have a choice, at least when they first start.

Now I shall jump off my soapbox and talk about my upcoming trip to Ocean Park for a weekend writers’ conference. I haven’t been to this particular workshop for several years, although it’s a favorite. Lately, I’ve gotten back into the groove of writing verses and thoroughly enjoying the experience. I don’t think I’m up to the grind of another prose book, but I might do another poetry collection one of these days. So, I’ll take a few verses with me, and an introductory chapter for my memoir story collection, in case I have an opportunity to have others critique them.

Now, I need to think about getting to bed a little earlier than usual so that I can get up a lot earlier than usual and hit the road

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