Raise your hand if you’ve ever used an outhouse.

During a recent discussion with friends, the topic of outhouses came up. I honestly don’t remember why it made its way into the conversation, but boy, did it ever.

So, I posed the question on my Facebook page, yes or no, have you ever used an outhouse? I was shocked at not only the number of people who said yes, but also at the number of people who responded with comments about their outhouse experiences.

And for the most part, folks who have used an outhouse are very proud of that fact.

Growing up in rural Arkansas, there were a number of my family members and friends who still lived life much as they always had. In the mid 1960’s, I was very young, but many of my great grandparents were not only still alive, they were still active.

About 1966, my mother’s grandparents were homesteading a small farm on Highway 41 between New Boston, Texas and Foreman, Arkansas. The only running water they had in the old farmhouse was a hand pump in the kitchen sink. From there, my great grandmother would draw water for baths, washing clothes, and cooking.

My great grandparents also had what is called a one-holer outhouse, which, as indicated, is designed for one person at a time. Inside by the door, you would find a nail sticking out with a copy of the Farmer’s Almanac hanging from it. Also nearby would be a Sears and Roebuck catalog. This is because Charmin wasn’t readily available at their place.

Outhouses were also home to wasps, hornets, spiders, and other creatures. The general rule was, if you leave them alone, they’d leave you alone. Most of the time, that was the case.

My less-than-scientific survey of Facebook friends revealed that some of them had had access to “two-holers,” with one even claiming to have seen a “four-holer.”

I cannot for the life of me understand why anyone would want to share this experience with up to three people, but I will point out that still today, it is not uncommon to be eating in a restaurant and have a woman excuse herself to the restroom, and see three other women grab their purses and say, “We’ll go with you.”

The men remain at the table puzzled, but we are smart enough not to ask, or want to know why they do that.

For those who have never been lucky enough to use an outhouse, you should try it if the opportunity presents itself. If for no other reason than to give you yet another reason to forever appreciate modern conveniences.

Those of us who have had the outhouse experience are dwindling in numbers. However, we readily share our experience and wear it as a badge of honor.

So, the next time you have a moment to appreciate the modern plumbing most of us now take for granted, take a second to thank Mr. Whipple. And go ahead and squeeze the Charmin.

©2016 John Moore

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(photo credit: Wiki Commons)