Yep, another one:

THE  OUTHOUSE
By Wilton Strickland

A privy, toilet, or outhouse, a small wooden building sitting over a hole dug several feet deep at the rear of the back yard was used “as necessary.” I dug two of the holes in the ground for the privy - one as a young teenager, the other when I was 21. Each of the holes was about 4 feet by 4 feet in width and about 6 feet deep. Each time, I also moved the building to the new hole. The building had a wooden bench with an appropriate hole in it to receive “deposits.” Some of these privies had multiple holes - there were many “two-holers,” usually an adult hole and a child hole. Ours was always a conservative and more-modest “one-holer.” In lieu of toilet tissue, which we had only in later years, we used corncobs (too rough), newspaper (a bit slick) and pages from Sears catalogs (way too slick). (Many outhouses even had a wire rack to hold the Sears catalog.) Not only was the availability and use of appropriate “paper” somewhat worrisome, one also had to be on the lookout for black widow spiders and snakes. A stick was usually kept in a corner to wave around in the hole and under the bench to rid the area of spider webs and, hopefully, spiders. The best defense against such critters, though, was to perch or squat up on the bench above the hole while being careful to maintain good “aim.” Several days after I had installed bathroom fixtures, a kitchen sink, a water heater and an automatic washer for Mama in 1970, I stopped by to see her one afternoon. While there, she asked me to help her burn a pile of brush in the garden. The pile was near the now not-needed outhouse. I suddenly realized this was the perfect opportunity to do something I had wanted to do for many years - burn the outhouse! When I told Mama my plan, she hesitated and said, “Oh, no, I thought we’d save it.”
    I asked, “Save it for what?”
    She replied, “Oh, an emergency.”
I quickly convinced her, though, that it was a symbol of and a reminder of a past hard life and sacrifices she had made for way too long, “Let’s burn it in celebration of not needing it any more.” We laughed and giggled as we pushed it onto the brush pile and set it ablaze. We watched it disappear in smoke and flame as we each toasted it with a glass of cold Pepsi - one of the most-fun parties Mama and I ever had. I wish Daddy could have celebrated the occasion with us.

Wilton

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