Sunday, November 29, 2009

Privy Information

Tools, old oil cans, rags, a work bench and the old outhouse all resided in the little garage next to the corn crib. The old dirt floor only added to the ambiance of the old building and the dread we felt upon entering it.

The old three-holer sat concealed in the back corner of the garage. Many times Dad would accompany his daughters to the privy puttering in the garage while we spent time in the corner. All of us hated this little privy in the corner with no light. Mice had a small community that lived in the garage so more times than not a mouse would cross your path either going in or coming out of the garage.

Years later, Stagers put in a bathroom. When they moved their outhouse, it ended up behind our corncrib and became our 'new' outhouse. Fewer mice but a bit colder in the winter. Not as cold as Aunt Bess’s on Lake Hamilin, Michigan.

We never understood why our grandparents both had indoor bathrooms, and we did not. I'm sure it was a financial decision. In looking back, I feel sorry for my sisters who brought friends home from college. For some reason, I didn't think much about it then. We had what we had. I think I was in junior high when Mom and Dad finally put a bathroom in the basement. It was the pride of the Loxley household.

I look at those days of the outhouse as days of bonding. Someone always went out with me when I was little. We walked and talked. Dad and I looked at the sky. June probably tried to hold the door shut on me.

After Dad tore down the old garage, I cheered for the erasure of those days of dodging mice. Looking back I realize that we were not behind the times. Hey, we had an indoor outhouse. Not bad.

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