The heavy rain woke me up and as I lay there listening to it pounding our tin roof, I thought about how it used to be. Like everyone we knew, there was a little building out back at the end of the well worn path. The outhouse stood there in its regal majesty. It had importance and knew it.

I hated making a necessary trip out back. The door was usually left ajar to signal it was empty and available. That cut down on the smell somewhat. Dad sometimes had a bucket of lime sitting just inside the door. A cupful sprinkled down the hole made the next person's trip there a little less fragrant.

Dad never built an outhouse. Every place we lived already had one. I had heard about the fancy ones that had smaller holes for the children. We were never so lucky. Both holes, there were usually two, were adult size. Trying to balance yourself, while you did your business when you were only five or six years old, was not easy.

Reading material was the previous issue of the Montgomery-Ward catalog. It didn't take long until only the glossy pages were left. I don't remember ever seeing a roll of Charmin in my growing up years.

A chamber pot, used only at night or by a sick person, took the place of a nighttime trek. But Dad wouldn't use it. Instead, he struck a match to light the lantern for his nightly trip before bedtime. Not me. I used the chamber pot as did my mother and brothers.

Once a year, usually in spring, Dad would tip back the outhouse to clean out the pile of “do-do” and freshen up the place. Yeah, right! It stunk to high heaven for a week after that. Where was that bucket of lime when we needed it? He shoveled the “do-do” into the manure spreader and took it out to a back field on the farm.

There was a classic design for this indispensable building. It wasn't any bigger than need be. After all, it had to be tipped over at cleaning time. There was not a glass window in the place. A half moon cut high up on a side wall or in the door gave the only light or ventilation.

There is a outhouse here on Summers Road. A cabin, set back at the end of a long lane, has an outhouse to greet you before you see the cabin. I heard the story of a visitor using the facility and being scared silly. She had left the door open and looked up to see a very long, very large black snake draped over the top of the door, studying her. What could she do? Screaming wouldn't help. She remained seated until the snake tired of the scene and slowly left. I understand she escaped rather quickly.

So, be thankful for your modern accommodations. The good old days often were not so good and left much to be desired.