Outhouses and Outcomes

When I was a kid, an outhouse was a necessary evil for homes that did not have indoor plumbing. Unlike the quaint buildings depicted in movies and on television, which have crescent moons and a scattering of stars flung across misshapen, loosely-hinged doors, many of these buildings were drab, foul-smelling meetinghouses for flies and other bugs who enjoyed the stench within, even when the muck was heavily powdered with lime. And since most of these structures were not insulated, they became hot and humid in the summer, and turned freezing cold in the winter. 

My grandmother's outhouse was situated in between the back porch of the main house and a stretch of uncut forest that served as a land border on the other side. To reach it, one had to follow a small, twisted, dirt path that had been worn down by generations of family and friends, all who had made countless trips back and forth to answer the call of nature.

Because I enjoyed watching scary movies, I was always slightly superstitious in regard to what would happen to someone should they fall into the toilet hole of the outhouse. After all, my cousin's plastic toy helicopter had been hurled down said hole into the deep recesses of refuse after losing a fight with my other cousin, never to be seen again. While I knew I was bigger than a toy, I didn't know what lurked in the abyss and I didn't want to take any unnecessary chances. And so, I avoided the outhouse whenever possible, especially in the dark. Even when equipped with a flashlight and a new roll of toilet tissue, it was a scary run from the house to that crudely shaped shack, and I'm not ashamed to say there were many times I chose to cop-a-squat in the front yard by the tiger lily bushes instead of making the trip.  

Needless to say, I did not fall victim to the perceived dangers associated with my grandmother's outhouse, and continued to enjoy countless visits with my grandparents over the years. Looking back, the experiences I had on that small homestead with the crooked outhouse, my cousins, and the tiger lily bushes helped make me who I am today, an outcome I am most grateful for.