Outhouse

 

Outhouse

 

Sitting by the campfire on a warm March afternoon I noticed a small shed nearby.    I never noticed it before. It was one of those nondescript structures that belonged to another age. Having faithfully served earlier generations, now it was in slow decay.

 

Rarely do you hear of outhouses in our postmodern world. Thanks to human ingenuity, indoor plumbing has replaced the daily visit out back. Once an integral part of life, making way in all kinds of weather to the small wood hut that brought relief and a moment of privacy.

 

I remember the outhouse on vacations up north where an indoor toilet was a convenience not yet embraced. Not that I am a connoisseur but through the years I made use of the outhouse in exotic places: Jericho, Israel (rustic to say the least but with a great view of the Dead Sea); Mombasa, Kenya, East Africa (out in the bush with no TP, praying an elephant would not stop by); Aguascalientes, Mexico (a short visit to be sure); in the Australian outback (one of the best); not to mention all the camp sites where at least amenities were provided).

 

Just in case you think I have completely gone over to the dark side, here is a short poem you might enjoy:

 

Ode to the Outhouse

 

The little outhouse that was out back, had two seats and a wooden floor. With last years Sears catalog, and a half moon upon the door.

 

A busy little place it was, things were always brewing. And everyone that went inside knew what they were doing.

 

A place of quiet and solitude while seeking some relief.  You’d feel a great accomplishment though your stay was always brief.

 

There’s nothing left but shambles now, it’s crumbled down by time. But it still is standing straight and tall, in the outback of my mind.