Outhouse
I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned I grew up on a family farm. My parents were pretty much done with farming by the time I showed up, but the barns were still around. That, and one of the most important buildings for an old farmhouse (any house, I would guess)… the outhouse.
We were lucky enough to have a THREE SEATER. Yup, that’s right folks – the family that pees together stays together! And it wasn’t just for show – it was a practical outbuilding to have since we very often RAN OUT OF WATER in the summer. (Bet you didn’t know that could happen, huh?) The old family farmstead had a hand dug well, not very deep (if I’d been in charge of digging it, it would have been a lot shallower – I hate using shovels!). And, just about every summer, for a week or two at least, water was a precious commodity that sometimes we had and sometimes we didn’t.
Apparently, when my parents first moved into the family farmhouse, they had a bit of money and they could either fix the well (my dad, having grown up in the house, was well aware of the issue) or buy a car. My mom had two boys at this point and had to figure out what was important. She could either have water and be stuck at home all day, every day with two little boys OR she could get the car, drive to her mother’s house in town (or even go across the street to her mother in law’s) and fill up water jugs and also be able to go places with those little boys. She got the car.
That was actually not the story I wanted to tell you, but you had to know it to appreciate the story I wanted to tell you:
One of our foster kids, L., had serious trust issues. They manifested themselves in all sorts of ways, some amusing, most not so much. She stole. She stole any kind of thing. She especially liked to steal food. We actually had to get a lock for the stand up freezer to stop her from stealing stuff out of there. She came up to me once and offered me a frozen hot dog, like it was some kind of awesome treat.
Years later, my dad was repairing the outhouse. With kids out of the house, they didn’t seem to run out of water so frequently (amazing!) and in fact, had actually gotten a new well dug. So the outhouse really hadn’t been used as an outhouse for quite some time and had become a bit rundown. I am not sure of how or what exactly he was doing, but he came up to the house, his hands full. Layered in the dried up muck he was cleaning out were dishes, silverware and various other kitchen implements. The only thing we could think of was L – she must have stolen food and instead of eating it in the house where it where she could be discovered, she used the outhouse as a secret place and a convenient trash heap.
And the reason I thought of this … the Webbies. The Nineth Annual Weblog Award nominees are up and there is one under the Best Kept Secret Weblog called Chicken in the Road. In her full archive of the blog, she has a section for Outhouses. I particularly liked It’s Hard to Find a Good Outhouse, and Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say. (although, I was moved enough by this one to share it with my parents.)