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THE LITTLE HOUSE OUT BACK by
George Lester |  |
| When
we sold the Lorena farm and moved to Spunky Flat we said goodbye to indoor toilets
for many years. There is something about a privy out behind the house. It isn't
good. For one thing, you can freeze your backside off during the winter. During
all that time we did without indoor plumbing I longed for the creature comfort
of taking care of business inside. With my grand father, it was just the opposite.
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| An
outhouse nearly obscured by bloodweed in the ghost town of Perry.
Photo courtesy George Lester | |
All his life he
preferred the old fashioned way. As modern society advanced, the rest of the family
rejoiced when a new bathroom was installed inside the house. My grand father would
have no part of it. He refused to give up his old-fashioned ways and continued
to use the facility outside. Once he asked my grand mother if he could have cabbage
for dinner. She said it was out of the question because it would stink up the
house. He pointed to the bathroom and asked why it was all right to do that in
the house but cooking cabbage was prohibited (I cleaned that up a bit)
After what seemed like a lifetime with out modern conveniences my father decided
it was time to join the twentieth century. We had to dig trenches for the water
and sewer lines and that was no easy task. At that time we lived in Gladewater
atop an iron ore hill. We slaved away for days chipping through tons of rock before
the excavation was ready for the pipes. When it was all done I could hardly contain
myself, anticipating the thrill of using this wondrous new innovation. I went
into the bathroom, flushed the commode and then ran down the hill to listen for
the sound of the water spilling into the septic tank.
Somewhere in the
land there was probably a symphony orchestra playing Rachmaninov's "Piano Concerto
#2 In E flat minor", but that splash was the most beautiful music in the world
to me. | | |
