Let's hear your outhouse stories.
It seems outhouses have entered our psyches. Many of you know my fondness for the outdoor privy, all with a certain uniqueness – construction, location, odoriferousness, etc. Damn, I miss them!!
Heck, I was privileged to use an outhouse, exclusively, well into my school years. We had one, my grandparents had one, the neighbors had one, and all the elderly hermits up and down the valley had one.
Affectionate memories of using them abound – for business, for play, for learning. Outhouses were much more than structures for relieving the body. Think of all the potential practical jokes that can transpire from the outhouse. As kids we knew every outhouse like the back of our hand – every hole in the walls, every door that did not latch, every unstable foundation, every roof that leaked, etc. They were also a location for learning. One of my favored hermits, Bill, had a stack of girly magazines in his outhouse that would rival the collection of the late Larry Flint. Growing up, I spent a lot of time at Bill's shack, using his outhouse, learning valuable life lessons on what my parents never disclosed.
Bill's shack was the site of one of the greatest learning experiences of my teenaged years – the "teen aged baby" and the baby powder. Let me know if you'd like a play-by-play recap.
Though I've had occasion to use such facilities on a short term basis at campgrounds, parks, and other remote venues, I am pleased to report that I've never lived where I didn't have flush toilets, and though some may try to attach a romanticized label to their use I never felt as though I've missed a darn thing by not having my own outhouse.
Quote from: troutrus on February 14, 2021, 10:52:37 AMThough I've had occasion to use such facilities on a short term basis at campgrounds, parks, and other remote venues, I am pleased to report that I've never lived where I didn't have flush toilets, and though some may try to attach a romanticized label to their use I never felt as though I've missed a darn thing by not having my own outhouse.
I can understand the skepticism on the joys, but until you regularly use one and actually own one then it may be difficult to truly appreciate. Let's see? It might be like owning a beagle or perhaps an old Willys Jeep or a quality cane rod – until you have one then it is impossible to grasp their romantic, loving charm.
https://www.treehugger.com/joys-using-outhouse-4855666
http://youtu.be/8zto7_IyV1Y
When we grew up in Maine the outhouse and no electricity was the order of the day. We moved to Vermont and then New Hampshire and found the joy of running water and flicking the switch for lights - although there were times we reverted to kerosene lamps.
Once I joined the Army all that was behind me unless you count using a slit trench and gas lantern from time to time.
First outhouse I remember was at Life Camp in NJ (Trail Blazers -- land donated by Dorris Duke) where dad and mom met while they were summer counselors, I remember going there and sleeping in canvas wall tent as a family. Outhouses and kerosene lanterns, the smell of which congers up memories for long ago. This went on for many summers.
In college I had some friends who had a place up on the dan river and that was the first time I saw a double seater.
I can't recall any others specifically until my trip on the Allagash Wilderness Waterway. There were designated campsites along the way. Most had tolerable fatalities, but the most popular campsites had more than one outhouse and it was a good idea to hike to the one furthest away, especially at the end of the season.
I knew a guy who did a thesis on venomous spider bites. One of the conclusions from his research was that the preponderance of bites occurred on men's testicles. This was attributed to the fact that black windows and brown recluse spiders liked to live on the underside of outdoor toilet seats. When a man would sit down to take a shit, his ballsack would dangle enticingly (or menacingly?) in front of said spider and they'd get hit on the scrotum. I always thought everyone hovered when taking a shit on an outdoor toilet, but I guess not.
Quote from: The Dude on February 15, 2021, 12:14:45 PMI knew a guy who did a thesis on venomous spider bites. One of the conclusions from his research was that the preponderance of bites occurred on men's testicles. This was attributed to the fact that black windows and brown recluse spiders liked to live on the underside of outdoor toilet seats. When a man would sit down to take a shit, his ballsack would dangle enticingly (or menacingly?) in front of said spider and they'd get hit on the scrotum. I always thought everyone hovered when taking a shit on an outdoor toilet, but I guess not.
Seems to be a global problem.
PS: Hovering is for pink weenie rookies!
http://youtu.be/TjDAiq2-xeU
I grew up using one for awhile. Don't miss it too much myself. It was mighty cold in the winter. And those Sears and Rareback pages were to shiny and slick to get any traction. :laugh:
This one has seen better days... The old Hutchenson homestead at Stone Mountain SP
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A nice one provided by the State O' Maine. Still smelly.
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ANCHORAGE, ALASKA — An Alaska woman had the scare of a lifetime when using an outhouse in the backcountry and she was attacked by a bear, from below.
"I got out there and sat down on the toilet and immediately something bit my butt right as I sat down," Shannon Stevens told The Associated Press on Thursday. "I jumped up and I screamed when it happened."
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