As I've written before, until the early sixties, my grandparents' home out in the country featured their faithful one holer, AND, yes, the old Sear's catalog.
Tough to say which was more of a blessing: going out in the dead cold of a winter's night, or in the blistering heat of a summer day...they each had their special meaning.
I suppose I have told this story before, but it never fails to make me laugh...
When my dad and his sister were kids, they were in good old Frenchtown for summer vacation, leaving the hot city of Philly for the cool breezes of Frenchtown on the Delaware River....
One night, Aunt Helen had to run out for the outhouse...she was in such a hurry, then when she lifted what she thought was the lid over the hole, she accidentally picked up the whole plank, that had the hole in it...and whoosh...in she fell...my dad says, they heard this awful scream coming from the outhouse, and all the relatives ran out there....had to lower down a rope to haul poor stinky Aunt Helen out...she says, never before, nor since, had she had such an awful experience...altho, the time she fell into the pig stye and piles of pig manure, came in a close second....poor Aunt Helen....as my dad said, she was good for some laughs...