I shared this little story on my “Collections” blog, in a slightly different context.
Here I am offering it up as a bit of folklore, if you will. A tale largely embellished over the years, it has grown in dramatic proportions (and comedic value!).
I found this outhouse print in one of my favorite shops, of course. Except for the flowers wreathed around the edges, this one reminds me of the outhouse on the farm, back when I was a child. It sat some distance from the old homestead, and traipsing out there for the “call of nature” was something of a journey. Especially for a kid.
Nowadays, it is still ‘way out back, down on the farm, but it long-ago ceased to be “functional.” I guess you could say that it has been relegated to the “collectible corner.”
Once in my early childhood—I think I was about four—I was inadvertently locked in the outhouse. Nowadays, I embellish that tale a bit, dramatizing the trauma of it all, but actually, I do recall that it was a bit traumatic! Really! I still remember that little hole in the door, where I could glimpse the blue sky, and thinking that I would never escape!
Of course, I was rescued, and while it seemed like it was hours later, I’m sure it couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty minutes.
Now don’t you think this one goes up there in the “hall of fame” that includes such tales as “when I was your age, I walked four miles to school, barefoot and in the snow”?