And I said: “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
Isaiah 6:5
Pretty much anyone that has ever had to accomplish a difficult goal has run into roadblocks of one form or another. They seem to be as much a part of life as the goal we are seeking to accomplish is. However, these unfortunate roadblocks are rarely expected, and cause us to react in a way that is equally unexpected. Think, for instance, of the last time you were hammering and missed the nail but hit your thumb instead. For many people at that moment their vocabulary seems to take on an entirely different tone; a tone that is not generally acceptable in Sunday school.
Now, although my grandfather’s language is not something of family lore, the events surrounding him are. At the same time, many of those events would lead the average person to use what one of my seminary professors referred to as, “football words.” Those are the words that many men feel are very appropriate while watching a football game that make the children go to Mom later for a vocabulary lesson. This, of course, causes Mom to have a discussion with Dad about words he will not be using around the children.
If ever there was an event that would cause my grandfather to use, “football words,” and feel the remorse that Isaiah did, the tale told here would be that event. Chances are everyone involved was using multiple variations on those words as this entire event played out, but those have been lost forever.
There are certain things from life of years gone by, which seem completely foreign to us today. Some come from technological advances, shifting sense of values, outside forces on our society or others. The basic needs and necessities in life, however, have not changed since the dawn of civilization. One of these is the basic need for toilet facilities of one form or another.
In the days before modern indoor plumbing toilet facilities were maintained outside of the home, and usually some distance from it. The maintenance of these facilities was straightforward, unpleasant, but quite required, and a family could not afford to be without their requisite outhouse. When establishing a home this either meant that the family had to build a new outhouse or put up an existing one. This is exactly the circumstance my family found themselves in when they bought the farmhouse that I came to know and love.
In 1950 my grandmother, Mamaw, worked for the US Census as a field worker, and went from home to home to confirm the census numbers of the homes that she was assigned. One of her assigned homes was an old farmhouse, out a dead-end road, in the outer portions or Iredell County. During the course of this assignment she discovered that the farmhouse was for sale, and met much of what she and my grandfather, Papaw, were looking for in a farm.
The farm was about 130 acres of rolling meadow land with a small stream running through the center of it. On it was a large, wood frame farmhouse that would just fit their growing family. In it had running water to the kitchen, if you used the hand pump correctly, but had yet to build indoor plumbing facilities for the restroom. Until that time, my grandparents would need to have their family use an outhouse. As luck would have it, the home they were presently in had an outhouse that they could take with them on their move to their new farmhouse. They made an offer on the farm, appropriate arrangements for financing, and moved their family to their new farm.
Moving in those days was no small feat. Usually, it meant gathering any family and friends with trucks and tractors that you could find, strapping your earthly belongings to various vehicles, and making a grand caravan of ragtag vehicles across whatever distance divided you from your new home. This, of course, was no different for my grandparents and their family than it was for any other family of that time. Fortunately, however, for them was the fact that the move they were to make was less than ten miles.
Most of the move went quite smoothly, and without a hitch. The various family furniture, clothing, and family members all made the move within the first day or so. Moving the outhouse was not quite so simple.
To move the outhouse took a larger vehicle than most of their other family belongings; after all, they were moving a small building from one location to another. Papaw, a few family members, and some friends all gathered at their old house and loaded the old outhouse onto Papaw’s flatbed trailer. You can just imagine the amusement of seeing a 5 foot by 5 foot building picked up from above an old cesspit by a group of men and loaded on a trailer. No matter how carefully you try to keep your outhouse, at the end of the day it is still an outhouse over an open hole full of less than pleasant smells. Eventually, however, this group of men got the old outhouse loaded on the trailer and strapped down.
The route from the old house to the new farmhouse was a series of back country roads, passing by other homes and businesses. As Papaw traveled his route to his new home, he felt a certain amount of rye amusement as he towed that old outhouse past a series of houses from some of the more well-to-do families of the area, who already had indoor plumbing. His amusement subsided significantly when he felt a sudden surge in his Allis Chalmers tractor.
He knew that tractor as well as he knew any piece of his machinery, and a surge on a flat road was not one of the things that he had come to expect of it. His worst suspicion was confirmed when he looked back and saw that the tongue of his trailer had broken, and his trailer, along with his outhouse, had taken up residence in the front yard of one of his new neighbors along the way.
Papaw stopped his tractor, got down and assessed the situation. Unfortunately, he did not have the necessary tools or supplies to repair the broken trailer, nor did he have any other means immediately available to get his outhouse to his new home. Suffering from a sense of shame from the amusement he felt only moments before, he now had to swallow a significant amount of pride and go knock on the front door of his neighbor to explain the unfortunate circumstance.
Can you just imagine that kind of conversation? In his most polite and ingratiating way, he informed his neighbor of the bad sense of timing and luck that had befallen him, “You know, a funny thing happened as we were towing our outhouse past your home. Boy, it sure is a nice outhouse, but I’ll need to come back for it in a day or so when I get my trailer repaired.” He requested that he be allowed to come back for his outhouse and trailer later with the proper tools and supplies. For some unknown and incomprehensible reason, his neighbor actually agreed.
According to Papaw’s normal rate of getting things done, it was almost a week before he was finally able to get back over to his neighbor’s house to retrieve his trailer and outhouse. And, to make matters worse, it was getting late in the day when he was finally able to go. Out of a sense of wisdom for some sense of safety, Papaw had Mamaw follow him in their Ford just to keep lights on him so that other traffic could see this side-show coming.
Papaw had not had sufficient time to get a new tongue made for his trailer, which, of course, would have been the wise course of action. Instead, he devised a plan to “repair” his old trailer tongue. He took with him a couple of pieces of wood, along with some bailing wire and an old logging chain. He wrapped the broken tongue like you would a broken leg, and effectively splinted it. He then attached the “repaired” trailer to the tow hitch of the tractor and prepared for the remainder of the trip to his new farmhouse with an extra layer of protection in a logging chain wrapped around the whole catastrophe.
Tractors never can build up a tremendous speed, and they usually top out at about twenty-five to thirty miles per hour. Papaw gave that old tractor all it had, trying to get back to his new farmhouse with at least a little bit of sunlight remaining, but that was obviously going to be impossible. He knew that it would be close and that was why he had Mamaw to follow him in their Ford.
Mamaw stayed back at a safe distance, just in case the “repair” job failed again, and kept the headlights on Papaw so that other motorists would be able to see him. Part of Papaw’s repair job included an old logging chain. Unfortunately, he did not spend a lot of time trying to make it snug nor keep it far from the ground. As they began their journey, the old logging chain began to drag on the road.
As dusk was beginning to fall, and the light was waning, the sparks created by that old logging chain on the road were spectacular. Papaw, of course, knew what was going on, and strategically chose to ignore it rather than lose any more daylight by stopping. Mamaw on the other hand, did not know what was going on, and panic overtook her.
From her perspective, she could see the old flatbed trailer being towed. Because of the outhouse on top of it, she had a difficult time even seeing that someone was driving the tractor which was towing the trailer. Add to that an immense shower of sparks which was emanating from the front end of that trailer and creating a massive rooster tail of sparks up and over the outhouse. Mamaw was absolutely convinced that the trailer had caught fire and their outhouse was going to burst into flames. On top of that was the concern that the tractor, along with Papaw, was in imminent danger of explosion or some other catastrophe.
Mamaw began to holler and honk her horn and cry and any number of other things to get Papaw’s attention. Yet through it all, Papaw persisted, and stayed his course toward their new home. Papaw actually felt a certain amount of glee from the concern that Mamaw felt; of course, that subsided significantly later when Mamaw was able to fully express to him what she thought.
Eventually, Papaw, Mamaw, the trailer with the outhouse, and Papaw’s rooster tail of sparks made it to their new farmhouse. It was sometime after dark before they ever pulled up, but now they were able to visit the facilities in privacy. But, there is more to that old outhouse than simply another building on the property.
You can imagine what it must have been like for a growing family to be moving into a new home and not have a place to do your business, privately. Granted, with Papaw and four boys they really weren’t all that concerned, but Mamaw and one girl certainly were. None were happier than the ladies of the family when the new outhouse had been made fully ready for use; including toilet paper and a Sears & Roebuck catalog.
Mamaw was a real lady, but she was also a simple country lady. She had been born on a farm herself in a building without power, running water, or even a solid floor. This new home was the epitome of new and upcoming because it did have power, and a tin roof, and clapboard siding, and a real front porch. So, although the restroom facilities were exterior to the home, it was still the nicest house she had ever lived in, and it did not bother her at all that she had to walk outside in order to relieve herself. After all, you never know what you may see.
Not knowing what you may see or come across is exactly what did happen to Mamaw on one of her first visits to their new outhouse. As she emerged from their home to make her way across the yard to the outhouse she noted some movement in the grassy area near the outhouse, and she immediately froze. Not knowing what it might be, especially since it might not like you, you tend to tread lightly. So, being a little preemptively cautious, she stealthily reached down and found a relatively nice sized stone lying near her feet and carefully stood back up to her full height.
Mamaw was ready. She stood tall and proud ready to either fight or flee; of course if she did flee that did not resolve the reason she was out there to begin with so her preference was to fight, do her business, and then flee. She raised her throwing arm in preparation to shoo away whatever may be lurking near her outhouse so that she could proceed, and continued to creep ever closer to the outhouse and realize her eventual relief from an increasingly growing pressure inside her. Whatever was creeping near was not helping her bladder control concerns at all.
When she was still about 25 feet away, her stalker leapt up and, without thinking at all, Mamaw let fly her rock at her opponent. Simultaneously, she made a quick dash for the outhouse and relative safety and relief from building pressure. She was pretty confident that her rock had struck her opponent and that he had either been knocked out or scared away; either way was a win for her. A few minutes later she emerged from the outhouse, and the family dinner plans were no longer a significant concern; they were having rabbit for dinner. Mamaw had made a clean, powerful, square hit on a rabbit that she was convinced was a mountain lion about to pounce on her, but who was in no way going to prevent her from enjoying her moment of relief in her outhouse.
The lesson for you here is the family outhouse is precious, a thing of legend, and not something that you hinder anyone from being able to enjoy. It may not be pretty, but it is pretty important.
Isaiah 6:5
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| Prophet Isaiah By Anotonio Balestra (ca 1666-1740) in Castelvecchio Museum |
Pretty much anyone that has ever had to accomplish a difficult goal has run into roadblocks of one form or another. They seem to be as much a part of life as the goal we are seeking to accomplish is. However, these unfortunate roadblocks are rarely expected, and cause us to react in a way that is equally unexpected. Think, for instance, of the last time you were hammering and missed the nail but hit your thumb instead. For many people at that moment their vocabulary seems to take on an entirely different tone; a tone that is not generally acceptable in Sunday school.
Now, although my grandfather’s language is not something of family lore, the events surrounding him are. At the same time, many of those events would lead the average person to use what one of my seminary professors referred to as, “football words.” Those are the words that many men feel are very appropriate while watching a football game that make the children go to Mom later for a vocabulary lesson. This, of course, causes Mom to have a discussion with Dad about words he will not be using around the children.
If ever there was an event that would cause my grandfather to use, “football words,” and feel the remorse that Isaiah did, the tale told here would be that event. Chances are everyone involved was using multiple variations on those words as this entire event played out, but those have been lost forever.
There are certain things from life of years gone by, which seem completely foreign to us today. Some come from technological advances, shifting sense of values, outside forces on our society or others. The basic needs and necessities in life, however, have not changed since the dawn of civilization. One of these is the basic need for toilet facilities of one form or another.
In the days before modern indoor plumbing toilet facilities were maintained outside of the home, and usually some distance from it. The maintenance of these facilities was straightforward, unpleasant, but quite required, and a family could not afford to be without their requisite outhouse. When establishing a home this either meant that the family had to build a new outhouse or put up an existing one. This is exactly the circumstance my family found themselves in when they bought the farmhouse that I came to know and love.
In 1950 my grandmother, Mamaw, worked for the US Census as a field worker, and went from home to home to confirm the census numbers of the homes that she was assigned. One of her assigned homes was an old farmhouse, out a dead-end road, in the outer portions or Iredell County. During the course of this assignment she discovered that the farmhouse was for sale, and met much of what she and my grandfather, Papaw, were looking for in a farm.
The farm was about 130 acres of rolling meadow land with a small stream running through the center of it. On it was a large, wood frame farmhouse that would just fit their growing family. In it had running water to the kitchen, if you used the hand pump correctly, but had yet to build indoor plumbing facilities for the restroom. Until that time, my grandparents would need to have their family use an outhouse. As luck would have it, the home they were presently in had an outhouse that they could take with them on their move to their new farmhouse. They made an offer on the farm, appropriate arrangements for financing, and moved their family to their new farm.
Moving in those days was no small feat. Usually, it meant gathering any family and friends with trucks and tractors that you could find, strapping your earthly belongings to various vehicles, and making a grand caravan of ragtag vehicles across whatever distance divided you from your new home. This, of course, was no different for my grandparents and their family than it was for any other family of that time. Fortunately, however, for them was the fact that the move they were to make was less than ten miles.
Most of the move went quite smoothly, and without a hitch. The various family furniture, clothing, and family members all made the move within the first day or so. Moving the outhouse was not quite so simple.
To move the outhouse took a larger vehicle than most of their other family belongings; after all, they were moving a small building from one location to another. Papaw, a few family members, and some friends all gathered at their old house and loaded the old outhouse onto Papaw’s flatbed trailer. You can just imagine the amusement of seeing a 5 foot by 5 foot building picked up from above an old cesspit by a group of men and loaded on a trailer. No matter how carefully you try to keep your outhouse, at the end of the day it is still an outhouse over an open hole full of less than pleasant smells. Eventually, however, this group of men got the old outhouse loaded on the trailer and strapped down.
The route from the old house to the new farmhouse was a series of back country roads, passing by other homes and businesses. As Papaw traveled his route to his new home, he felt a certain amount of rye amusement as he towed that old outhouse past a series of houses from some of the more well-to-do families of the area, who already had indoor plumbing. His amusement subsided significantly when he felt a sudden surge in his Allis Chalmers tractor.
He knew that tractor as well as he knew any piece of his machinery, and a surge on a flat road was not one of the things that he had come to expect of it. His worst suspicion was confirmed when he looked back and saw that the tongue of his trailer had broken, and his trailer, along with his outhouse, had taken up residence in the front yard of one of his new neighbors along the way.
Papaw stopped his tractor, got down and assessed the situation. Unfortunately, he did not have the necessary tools or supplies to repair the broken trailer, nor did he have any other means immediately available to get his outhouse to his new home. Suffering from a sense of shame from the amusement he felt only moments before, he now had to swallow a significant amount of pride and go knock on the front door of his neighbor to explain the unfortunate circumstance.
Can you just imagine that kind of conversation? In his most polite and ingratiating way, he informed his neighbor of the bad sense of timing and luck that had befallen him, “You know, a funny thing happened as we were towing our outhouse past your home. Boy, it sure is a nice outhouse, but I’ll need to come back for it in a day or so when I get my trailer repaired.” He requested that he be allowed to come back for his outhouse and trailer later with the proper tools and supplies. For some unknown and incomprehensible reason, his neighbor actually agreed.
According to Papaw’s normal rate of getting things done, it was almost a week before he was finally able to get back over to his neighbor’s house to retrieve his trailer and outhouse. And, to make matters worse, it was getting late in the day when he was finally able to go. Out of a sense of wisdom for some sense of safety, Papaw had Mamaw follow him in their Ford just to keep lights on him so that other traffic could see this side-show coming.
Papaw had not had sufficient time to get a new tongue made for his trailer, which, of course, would have been the wise course of action. Instead, he devised a plan to “repair” his old trailer tongue. He took with him a couple of pieces of wood, along with some bailing wire and an old logging chain. He wrapped the broken tongue like you would a broken leg, and effectively splinted it. He then attached the “repaired” trailer to the tow hitch of the tractor and prepared for the remainder of the trip to his new farmhouse with an extra layer of protection in a logging chain wrapped around the whole catastrophe.
Tractors never can build up a tremendous speed, and they usually top out at about twenty-five to thirty miles per hour. Papaw gave that old tractor all it had, trying to get back to his new farmhouse with at least a little bit of sunlight remaining, but that was obviously going to be impossible. He knew that it would be close and that was why he had Mamaw to follow him in their Ford.
Mamaw stayed back at a safe distance, just in case the “repair” job failed again, and kept the headlights on Papaw so that other motorists would be able to see him. Part of Papaw’s repair job included an old logging chain. Unfortunately, he did not spend a lot of time trying to make it snug nor keep it far from the ground. As they began their journey, the old logging chain began to drag on the road.
As dusk was beginning to fall, and the light was waning, the sparks created by that old logging chain on the road were spectacular. Papaw, of course, knew what was going on, and strategically chose to ignore it rather than lose any more daylight by stopping. Mamaw on the other hand, did not know what was going on, and panic overtook her.
From her perspective, she could see the old flatbed trailer being towed. Because of the outhouse on top of it, she had a difficult time even seeing that someone was driving the tractor which was towing the trailer. Add to that an immense shower of sparks which was emanating from the front end of that trailer and creating a massive rooster tail of sparks up and over the outhouse. Mamaw was absolutely convinced that the trailer had caught fire and their outhouse was going to burst into flames. On top of that was the concern that the tractor, along with Papaw, was in imminent danger of explosion or some other catastrophe.
Mamaw began to holler and honk her horn and cry and any number of other things to get Papaw’s attention. Yet through it all, Papaw persisted, and stayed his course toward their new home. Papaw actually felt a certain amount of glee from the concern that Mamaw felt; of course, that subsided significantly later when Mamaw was able to fully express to him what she thought.
Eventually, Papaw, Mamaw, the trailer with the outhouse, and Papaw’s rooster tail of sparks made it to their new farmhouse. It was sometime after dark before they ever pulled up, but now they were able to visit the facilities in privacy. But, there is more to that old outhouse than simply another building on the property.
You can imagine what it must have been like for a growing family to be moving into a new home and not have a place to do your business, privately. Granted, with Papaw and four boys they really weren’t all that concerned, but Mamaw and one girl certainly were. None were happier than the ladies of the family when the new outhouse had been made fully ready for use; including toilet paper and a Sears & Roebuck catalog.
Mamaw was a real lady, but she was also a simple country lady. She had been born on a farm herself in a building without power, running water, or even a solid floor. This new home was the epitome of new and upcoming because it did have power, and a tin roof, and clapboard siding, and a real front porch. So, although the restroom facilities were exterior to the home, it was still the nicest house she had ever lived in, and it did not bother her at all that she had to walk outside in order to relieve herself. After all, you never know what you may see.
Not knowing what you may see or come across is exactly what did happen to Mamaw on one of her first visits to their new outhouse. As she emerged from their home to make her way across the yard to the outhouse she noted some movement in the grassy area near the outhouse, and she immediately froze. Not knowing what it might be, especially since it might not like you, you tend to tread lightly. So, being a little preemptively cautious, she stealthily reached down and found a relatively nice sized stone lying near her feet and carefully stood back up to her full height.
Mamaw was ready. She stood tall and proud ready to either fight or flee; of course if she did flee that did not resolve the reason she was out there to begin with so her preference was to fight, do her business, and then flee. She raised her throwing arm in preparation to shoo away whatever may be lurking near her outhouse so that she could proceed, and continued to creep ever closer to the outhouse and realize her eventual relief from an increasingly growing pressure inside her. Whatever was creeping near was not helping her bladder control concerns at all.
When she was still about 25 feet away, her stalker leapt up and, without thinking at all, Mamaw let fly her rock at her opponent. Simultaneously, she made a quick dash for the outhouse and relative safety and relief from building pressure. She was pretty confident that her rock had struck her opponent and that he had either been knocked out or scared away; either way was a win for her. A few minutes later she emerged from the outhouse, and the family dinner plans were no longer a significant concern; they were having rabbit for dinner. Mamaw had made a clean, powerful, square hit on a rabbit that she was convinced was a mountain lion about to pounce on her, but who was in no way going to prevent her from enjoying her moment of relief in her outhouse.
The lesson for you here is the family outhouse is precious, a thing of legend, and not something that you hinder anyone from being able to enjoy. It may not be pretty, but it is pretty important.
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