Oh my! How many times I heard that question when I was a young’un.
I have lot’s of kin folk up north, mainly in Illinois, some in Ohio, and a few in Maryland, and when they’d come to visit they would have to use an outhouse.
Now see, they wasn’t used to that, they was used to indoor bathrooms, especially my cousins that were my age or close to it. I always thought it was funny when it came time fer one of ’em to have to go.
I still don’t see what’s wrong with usin’ an outhouse, ‘specially ours. We had a nice, spacious outhouse, plenty of room to move around in and the hole was mighty deep. Why, the whole time I was growin’ up, we never had to move it once.
You might be askin’ yerself what difference space matters in an outhouse, ‘specially if ya ain’t never been in, much less used one.
Well, now I’ve been in some mighty tiny outhouses before and they just feel cramped, uncomfortable like. Not to mention that the spiders and such was much closer to you, and I may be a hillbilly and all, but I don’t like spiders, at all.
In ours, you had room to just spread out, lean back and get real comfortable, and ya didn’t have to worry about no peepin’ Tom’s neither, we had all the cracks filled up, ‘cept the one where the hinges for the door was, but you could plainly see anybody that might be tryin’ to take a peek or make a funny on ya.
We even had a toilet paper holder. Yes sir, wasn’t no layin’ that roll on the bench and takin’ a chance a spider or two would crawl on up in the hole. That’d be terrible, go to grab a roll of paper with yer fingers stuck up in that roll hole and get bit by a spider. Why, that’d be plumb embarrasin’.
Our outhouse was special too, because it had a real toilet seat on it, and yes, if us menfolk didn’t put the seat back down, we’d get fussed at, just like today. Only thing was, the hole in the bench was a might bit bigger than the one on a commode, so a female had a better chance of fallin’ on through if the seat was up and it was dark and all. Us menfolk was mighty careful about that seat.
Durin’ the hot summer months that ‘ole outhouse stunk somethin’ fierce, and it the winter that seat got mighty cold. Manys the time I just left that door open in the summer, ‘specially at night, let that cooler night air waft in. Durin’ the winter a body would make a real quick trip, even for number two. Ya just didn’t waste no time and dilly dally around.
Sometimes I miss that ‘ole outhouse, or maybe it’s not the outhouse, but the simpler times of those bygone days.