The Prairie Spy

Alan “Lindy” Linda

The presence of a screen door and the sound it makes when it slams shut reminds me of days long gone by. The invention of combination storm and screen doors meant that old simple screen doors just disappeared from use. New constructions methods, higher insulation R-values, tighter infiltration standards—all these have led to some remarkable improvements in doors. Now, even combination storm doors are out of fashion.

Nonetheless, I went shopping for storm doors, the ones with combination screen and window. One was too plain, and it covered up my new front door too much. Another was too expensive. One high up on the rack was too fancy. I think it was actually gold plated, judging from the price. That one had too much glass, or was the wrong color, or, or, or.

I finally got so confused by all the choices that I turned to leave, and that was when I saw a plain, light-weight, wooden screen door, close-out price fourteen bucks. What the heck, I thought to myself, I can install this in about five minutes, and when cold weather comes, I can think about a real storm door some more.

I bought it. I drove home. I installed it. I put a screen door spring on it, and went to bed. The next day, when I left the house, I noticed that it slammed with a nice, kind of light, bang. Something about the sound of it slapping lightly shut seemed oddly familiar to me, but not enough that I even thought much about it.

It took several days, days during which I realized that I liked the sound of that screen door slamming, before I figured out that this sound is like the sound of screen doors that used to be everywhere when I grew up. That was back before storm doors, back when indoor comfort wasn’t even on the list of problems folks faced. 

It was:

Back when you woke up of a winter’s morning, and your bedroom window was so thick with frost that you couldn’t see out any part of the window.

Back when grandpa’s false teeth were frozen into the glass of water by his bedstead every winter morning.

Back when we were sure that germs came from stale air, and too much fresh air was impossible.

Back when we thought we were more vulnerable to stale-air germs at night when we were sleeping, so freezing cold bedrooms were popularly considered to be good for you.

Back when Miss Martin, my country school teacher, opened up all the doors and windows every morning to let the “bad” air out, and some fresh, below-zero healthy air in. We kids, having just walked a mile and a half in that fresh air, thought we were healthy enough; how about being warm instead.

Back when coal burning stoves were considered high tech, and folks could finally get rid of the wood shed, the cross-cut saw, the splitting maul, and the buzz saw.

Back when every farm had livestock, which of course brought summer flies, which meant you needed a screen door to keep them out.

Back when, in the summer, a screened porch was considered a luxury, and a screen door a necessity.

Back when “air conditioning” wasn’t a thing.

Back when ma made lye soap in the basement, and only a good breeze through the house from a screen door took the stink away.

All that from the sound a screen door makes when it closes. Go figure.