Leaving out the hole in the ground stuff, the outhouse is alive and well today. As are the spiders, snakes, et al 
Posted on 01/25/2007 5:06:58 PM PST by SJackson
The outhouse, or as I like to call it, the two-holer, is a thing of the past in most places. Some people may consider outhouses to be a taboo subject in a family newspaper, but for the sake of history, someone has to broach the subject! Because there are few, if any, 'sacred cows' in this column, let us begin.
For the younger generations who aren't familiar with them, the outhouse was our bathroom before indoor plumbing, and as the name suggests, it was outside. Most were constructed of wood and were about 4 feet square and 7 feet high. Inside was a 2-foot high box, built into the back half and extending from wall to wall. The top board had two holes cut in it. In our case, one hole was larger than the other. The smaller one was for kids. Unlike some outhouses, our door didn't have any type of hole or half-moon cut into it. A trip to the outhouse to do your duty was not without peril and adventure.
In the summer it seemed that every type of spider was at home there. And why not — where better to catch flies for a meal? I always checked the hole before sitting down to make sure a spider hadn't built a web in it. I didn't want a spider biting me on the butt! When I was very young, my folks were renting the Hauge farm. My cousin, Sandy, who was three years older than me, lived with us at that time.
There was a big woodpile next to the outhouse. One day, Dad came into the house, got the shotgun and headed for the woodpile. He shot a huge snake. At least it looked huge to us. I don't remember if it was a rattlesnake, but I suspect it was or he wouldn't have killed it. Nonpoisonous snakes were tolerated, even if we didn't like them.
After that incident, Sandy and I were afraid to go to the outhouse alone in case another huge snake was lying in wait for us. We'd make a big detour around the woodpile. Then one of us stood guard outside the outhouse while the other was doing their business. I don't know what we'd have done if we'd seen a snake. I suspect whoever was on guard would have run screaming to the house, leaving the other trapped inside the two-holer!
We also worried that a snake would get down in the hole below the outhouse and bite us when we sat down. Though I can't imagine why any type of self-respecting, walking, slithering or flying critter would want to venture into that smelly pit!
However, did you hear that Ole accidentally dropped a quarter down the two-holer? He looked down and then threw his billfold in. He told Lena, I'm not climbing down there for just a quarter!' That's a little outhouse humor.
Winter was another story. There's just no comfortable way to sit down on an ice-cold board when it's below zero. You could try to brace yourself with your hands and sort of hover over the hole like a helicopter without touching down, quickly do your business and get out of there without a frost-bitten butt. There was no loitering during the winter months. At least we didn't have to worry about spiders or snakes, but we had other problems.
Those of you who have fought your way through snowdrifts and sub-zero temperatures to reach the outhouse know what it's like. I'll leave a lot of the gory details to your memory and imagination.
During my freshman year in high school, I broke my leg and was on crutches for many months. It was quite an adventure that winter, hobbling through the deep snow to reach the outhouse. Ever try hovering over a hole while balancing on one leg, with the other leg in the cast sticking straight out? Interesting visual, isn't it? I was a sophomore in high school when we finally got indoor plumbing and an indoor bathroom, so I have a little familiarity with the old two-holer. Life became a lot more comfortable after that.
But sometimes I think we need to bring back the two-holer. Life was simpler then. You dug a hole and planted the two-holer over it. The only accessory needed was a Sears Roebuck catalog and you were in business.
Over time, the hole filled up and you simply dug another one, moved the two-holer, and you were ready to go again, so to speak. So simple! Today I have a fancy one-holer with moving parts and running water. Parts that can rust, corrode, drip and that only plumbers can fix at $60 an hour — or more!
Sears Roebuck is gone now too, replaced by fancy, soft paper on a roll that you have to buy. Times change. Rules and laws change. Two-holers are replaced by government inspected septic systems. We have city-run and controlled sewer lines that can back up and invade the basement. I don't ever recall the two-holer invading our farm cellar. It wasn't close enough to the house to cause any problems.
Progress? Personally I could still get by with a two-holer and a Sears Roebuck catalog. It wasn't as convenient or comfortable, but life sure was much simpler then.
Of course, there were those spiders and snakes to deal with in the summer and that cold seat in the winter. Maybe I better give this a little more thought!
Don't fergit about the corncobs...............
Who hasn't had to use the outhouse growing up at home ?
Oh yah all you young whippernsnapers.
"..the two-holer, is a thing of the past in most places."
Maybe so, but the one-holer is still in good use in our corner of the world. That would be Alaska.
Leaving out the hole in the ground stuff, the outhouse is alive and well today. As are the spiders, snakes, et al
Glad to see you found a photo that shows my good side!
I still like indoor plumbing, though.
Thanks for that ping SJackson.
It was a good place to encounter a snake, or so we believed. And wasp nests, they were a real problem, for some reason wasps liked to build their nests in outhouses, and I have been run out of an outhouse by wasps.
Gotta be pretty durn borin in the privy seein as how you don't know how to read no writtin.
"You could try to brace yourself with your hands and sort of hover over the hole like a helicopter without touching down..."
ROFLMAO! My Mother-in-law has perfected "the hover." She and I have traveled together many times, and she's taught me how to basically pee standing up, her fear of sitting on anyone's toilet seat but her own is that great.
Thanks for the laugh. I can't wait to send this to her!!
Ping.
Just guessing, --- Maybe less than half our Freepers.
I'm 48. We bid the outhouse farewell about 1965. We couldn't have been poor because we would buy a new car every four or five years. We thought we were much better off than our neighbors. {Back when everyone had outhouses} We could bathe indoors, whilst our neighbors had the "bath house" separate from the residence.
Come to think of it, they bought a new car every four or five years, too.
Thank God I was born in 1972.
Have you ever ready any of Pearl Swiggum's missives from 'Stump Ridge Farm?' She's a hoot!
I'm sure you could get her books from the Library. I think she has two collections of her columns, one was called 'The Barn Came First.' :)
some funny potty humour for ya sweetie! :)
There were still a few around when I was a kid but I never had to use one. As late as the early 80s an old farmer across the road from us had an outhouse.
Growing up I lived in a house in KY in the mid 80's that had running water at the kitchen sink only.
We used the privy across the dry creek at the edge of a cornfield.
Spongebaths unless we went up the road to the house of a family member.
This was NOT common anymore in that neck of the woods at the time but the rent was cheap in the old place so thats where we lived for a while.
Todays joke factory: Most of these jokes were most likely thought of while sitting down.
http://www.toilette-humor.com/index.html
"Gotta be pretty durn borin in the privy seein as how you don't know how to read no writtin."
Naw. I jest look at the pictures in the Sears catalog.......In fact it reminds me of a song.......
I'll Go Chasin' Women (Hamblen)
Oh it's springtime in the mountains and I'm full of mountain dew
Can't even read my catalog like I used to do
I'm a-settin' in that little shed right back of the house
And there comes Jake with all his hounds, and he's going to hear me shout
I won't go huntin' with you Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
Go put your hounds back in the pen and quit that silly grinnin'
The moon is right, and I'm half tight; my life is just beginnin'
I won't go huntin' with you, Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
So let's go down to the meetin' house and flush them pretty quails
We're safe up in these mountains Jake, ain't got a single jail
We'll chase them down the corn rows, the sassy little misses
We'll scare them pretty gals to death; we'll stop to throw 'em kisses
I won't go huntin' with you Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
Go put your hounds back in the pen and quit that silly grinnin'
The moon is right, and I'm half tight; my life is just beginnin'
I won't go huntin' with you, Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
I was a headin' fer that general store, when a silly thing I seen
They make it in the city and it's called a magazine
I turned to page thirty-two, and look at what I found
Them gals wear clothes that we ain't seen beneath them gingham gowns
I won't go huntin' with you Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
Go put your hounds back in the pen and quit that silly grinnin'
The moon is right, and I'm half tight; my life is just beginnin'
I won't go huntin' with you, Jake, but I'll go chasin' women
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