Have you ever wondered what it’s like to spend your days gazing into the lives of others, peering through the literal window into their homes? I have. In the summer of 1974, at the tender age of 17, I traded my school uniform for a bucket of soapy water and a squeegee. My job? To clean windows, and in doing so, I got a glimpse into the lives of a fascinating cross-section of my mid-70s suburban community.
Image: www.filmpostergallery.co.nz
Window cleaning wasn’t just about making glass sparkle; it was a window – a literal one – into the lives of people I’d never otherwise encounter. From the meticulously tidy home of the elderly Mrs. Henderson, her china dolls lined up like an honor guard on the mantelpiece, to the chaotic, art-filled space of the young, bohemian couple down the street, each window held a story waiting to be discovered.
The View From Above
As I climbed the rickety ladder, sometimes feeling the wind whipping at my back, I was constantly reminded of the ephemeral nature of everyday life. From my vantage point above, I saw the garden parties, the arguments unfolding on the porch, the joy of children playing in sprinklers. I even saw the quiet moments of grief, a lone figure sitting by the window, staring out at the world. These were the moments that stuck with me, reminding me that behind every perfectly polished pane of glass was a world of emotions, complexities, and stories.
The Ordinary and the Unexpected
Most days were filled with the mundane – cleaning streaks of grime, struggling with stubborn flies that seemed to love my spray bottle. But sprinkled among the ordinary were the unexpected encounters that made the job worthwhile. One sunny afternoon, I was cleaning the windows of a stately home when, through a window, I saw a group of children in the living room, gathered around a grandfather clock, listening intently as the old man, the owner of the house, told them a story. The look on their faces, the way they leaned in, it was a glimpse of the power of storytelling, the magic that can unfold in the most ordinary spaces.
The Human Tapestry
My window cleaning route took me through a cross-section of society: retired veterans, families with newborns, young couples starting their lives, and those who had been living in the same home for decades. There was the family who had just moved in, unpacking boxes with excited whispers, the young woman who carefully arranged her orchids on the window sill each morning, the elderly gentleman who meticulously polished his antique furniture every day. Each home was a unique reflection of its inhabitants, a small world within the larger community.
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The Unexpected Treasures
Sometimes, the windows revealed treasures, not of monetary value, but of emotional significance. In the home of a family with young children, I spotted a framed photograph of a young girl, her eyes sparkling with life, and knew instantly that this was a photo of a daughter, a sister, a cherished family member. In another home, I discovered a collection of antique dolls, each one lovingly restored, arranged in a glass-fronted cabinet. These trinkets and tokens weren’t just objects; they were reminders of lives lived, loves shared, and memories cherished.
The Changing Times
The summer of 1974 was a time of rapid change, and I saw those changes reflected in the homes I cleaned. The old-world style homes with their rose gardens and manicured lawns were slowly giving way to modern, minimalist houses with sleek lines and large picture windows. The world was changing, and I, through my window cleaning, was a witness to that change.
The Lessons Learned
Looking back on my summer as a window cleaner, I realize that it wasn’t just about cleaning glass. It was about connecting with the community, about understanding the human experience. I learned that even the most ordinary lives are filled with extraordinary moments, that there is beauty to be found in even the most unassuming of places. I learned that every home tells a story, and that every window offers a glimpse into that story.
A Window into the Past
And, most importantly, being a window cleaner in 1974, allowed me to view a different time, a simpler time, a time before the internet, before smart phones, before the world seemed to move at a relentless pace. It was a time when people were more connected to their neighborhoods, to their communities, to each other. It was a time when the world felt smaller, and the human touch felt more powerful.
Confessions Of A Window Cleaner 1974
The Enduring Power of Connection
While the world has changed dramatically since that summer, the human spirit remains the same. We still yearn for connection, for belonging, for love. And it’s in those small, everyday moments of connection, those shared smiles and kind words, that we find the true meaning of life. So, the next time you look out your window and see the world passing by, remember that every window is a story waiting to be told, and that every person, even the window cleaner, has a story to share.
