Our household sewer pipes had been invaded by tree roots, effectively blocking the sewage route from one huge concrete, poured-in-place holding tank, to the other. Holding tanks out on the farm—built in1963 in this case—tended to be of a considerably larger capacity than today’s drop-in-place, two-compartment units. After we pumped it all out and discovered the problem, we had to abandon that sealed system and install a new one.
That left us with two old holding tanks, one of which we filled in with dirt to make it safe from future cave-ins, the other on which we placed our outhouse. It was nicely hidden out there in the bush with a pathway winding its way through the trees and overhead canopy.
The guy at the Environmental office nearly pooped his pants laughing when I asked if he could tell me how long it would be before we would need to clean out the 3000 gallon (13,500 litre) holding tank. He never did answer that.
With eagerness, Jim took on the challenge of building Jim’s Emergency Gotta Go Relief Centre. Building an outhouse doesn’t require much expertise; farmers can do anything.
We decided to make it a recycling project, using wood that had already done duty elsewhere and we used scraps left over from other building projects too. This included use of two different colors of out-dated asphalt shingles that had been sitting around for probably forty years. Someone donated a cushiony used toilet seat for extra comfort. We did have to buy brand-new hinges for the door though. Thus, our service project cost us a grand total of $1.97.
My husband pulled the aesthetically pleasing outhouse (unpainted and naturally weathered, with dark moss-green and black/red-fleck shingled roof), over to the designated hole. Built on skids, it was an easy haul with the quad. We maneuvered it into place and staked it down so that it wouldn’t be moved with the wind.
Come party day(s), our guests dutifully signed the guest register—the wall—for a permanent record, since people always want to write on the walls of the facilities and now we gave them a legitimate reason. We dated the list for future posterior recollection. I always chuckle over some of the comments written there as I take a comfortable seat, like: ‘Wow, this is cool!’ or, ‘Enjoyed the great relief!!!’ and, ‘Need help? I’ve got a plunger!’ The pencil was left there, should anyone feel inclined to add to it.
Many guests brought housewarming presents too, an unexpected bonus—shows how people eagerly get into the party mood. We got a nice supply of toilet tissue (not all of it useable as there were some joke rolls too), a catalogue or two (for reading, of course, since we had all that toilet tissue), and even a nicely framed picture—of an outhouse! We took pictures of our guests, although I couldn’t convince them to pose in the legs-crossed line-ups often seen at public events. We even gave them a copy of their particular photo so they would remember the occasion, although I doubt anyone will ever forget.
Then everyone joined the growing group for carrot cake, coffee and endless jokes around the picnic tables. In general, we all had a great time. The weather was sunny, the wind light, and the temperatures only required light jackets.
So, it just goes to show you, there’s a party to be had over just about any event, even to an outhouse grand opening. That little house out back served more than once during a power outage—gives new meaning to brown-out, doesn’t it? It sure is handy for family reunions and other large gatherings. We planted creeping scarlet runner bean vines to lend a colorful camouflage. Of course that brought out the bees; the buzzing might make some folk nervous, but the bees’ only interest is in making honey.
While we’re retired to city living, the new owners make use of the facilities since their still-growing extended family visits regularly, enjoying many an outdoor gathering. The only request—if you’re new to the scene especially—please sign the walls!
