Woster: When you take pride in clean windows, they sure stand out and shine

As I walked through the state Capitol one afternoon years ago, a legislator stopped me and asked, “Are you the one who keeps all those windows in your house clean?’’

Odd question, but OK. I was asked — and I asked — many odd questions during my news reporting days. Until that moment, no one had asked me about window cleaning.

I confessed that the clean windows in our house were Nancy’s work, not mine. I helped sometimes, but she was the one who made sure our family could see outside. She was the one whose attitude toward sparkling clean window panes was like a quote I saw once: “Life is too short for dirty windows. Let’s get this party started.’’

The lawmaker said she sometimes walked around Capitol Lake during the Legislature’s noon break. She regularly passed our house, which sat on a corner across the street from the governor’s resident.

“Be sure to tell Nancy I notice those windows,’’ she said as she headed for her next committee hearing.

What an unusual thing to notice about a home you were walking past, I thought. Is that the sort of thing many people notice? Up to that point, I don’t think I ever noticed a clean window on a house in my life.

Funny thing. After that legislator’s question, I began to pay attention to windows. Boy, the clean ones really did stand out.

I began to pay attention to how clean our own windows looked from the inside, too. The world really does shine a bit brighter when the streaks and smudges and stains are removed. I read a quote that said someone’s new hobby was “staring at clean windows and pretending I’m on vacation.’’

We didn’t do that from inside our house on Capitol Avenue. We did sometimes sit and watch the world pass by. Early on when we did that, I was surprised at how much the traffic volume had grown in the years we lived on that corner. The number of young people walking past before and after school was impressive. So were the number of high school kids heading from Riggs High, two blocks north, to the convenience store two blocks south during class breaks in the academic day. How had I missed those changes?

Shakespeare supposedly said, “The eyes are the window to your soul.’’ In a similar way, a clean window is a kind of portal to the world around. It isn’t the same as being out in the middle of the world, but it’s not bad, either.

Recently, I went surfing online for comments about clean windows. I bumped into an amazing number of advertisements and slogans for window-cleaning companies. Natural enough, I suppose, although we — mostly Nancy — have always cleaned our own windows.

I also stumbled across a couple of comments worth reflection:

“My windows are so clean, they’re practically a reflection of my soul,’’ one said.

“My windows are so clean, I can see my reflection, and it is judging me,’’ said another. I usually use the bathroom mirror and a shaving razor when I want to see a reflection that judges me. A clean window would work as well, I suppose, but that would take away some of splendor of a magnificent world view.

Anyway, back to the legislator’s comment. When I passed the compliment on to Nancy that evening, she expressed pleasure that the effort had been noticed. “See? People notice things like that,’’ she said.

I know her, though. She may have been pleased that someone noticed her clean windows, but she kept the glass clean for herself. She knew long before I did how soul-soothing it could be to sit in the living room of that house on the corner and look out a freshly cleaned window at the world — the school kids, the office workers, the neighbor’s dog, the Capitol Lake geese and, well, everything.

These days, in our house by the river, I share keeping the windows clean. I have come to appreciate, even treasure, a sparkling expanse of window glass. I’m even beginning to enjoy the work it takes to make it happen.