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Thursday, Aug. 25, 2016

New toilet would have been great on the farm

Posted Tuesday, August 30, 2011, at 2:29 PM

When the temperature is colder than a dog's nose on the back of my knee in late August, I tend to take care of business quickly. Frost on the punkin' is nothing compared to the frost on the two-holer. The first can be endured the latter cannot. When the temperature is hotter than the interior of a car baking in the parking lot at Sprawl Mart in Phoenix in August things don't come out right.

It is hard for me to concentrate when my feet are cold. It is pert nigh impossible for me to go to sleep when my feet are cold. It is harder for me to go to sleep when BW's feet are cold because she puts, she tries to put them, on me. When we were first married I endured having those iceberg shards sucking the heat out of my tender torso. All for connubial love. Not anymore, love of my life. Get up and put wool socks on. Sometimes, to survive in that arctic wilderness home of frozen phalanges, the arctic survival training I received in the U.S. Navy kicks in and I get up and procure socks for her. To survive.

Have you ever sat on a metal park bench in the depth of winter with a bare or almost bare "dairy air?" If so you know how uncomfortable that is. Just sitting in a draft in the winter is most uncomfortable. Things don't come out right if you are cold. It is difficult to get the job done.

Then in antipode, when the temperature is hotter than the launch pad at Cape Canaveral just seconds after the shuttle blasts off, it is hard to take care of business. It makes me languid, slow and non-productive. Things just don't come out right.

Music soothes the savage beast. I am listening to beautiful music as I write this column. Music is pervasive in my life as I appreciate hearing it and producing music through singing and playing instruments. Music is vital to the existence of people everywhere. Every society from the most primitive to the most advanced has its forms of music. Music inspires, helps pass the time, encourages, expresses emotions, entertains, makes a hard job easier. It is difficult to imagine life without music.

Growing up on the farm north of Calvertville in ante bellum WW II and post WW II was a wonderful time. I cherish the memories of my life there in a loving environment of hard work and having fun. We didn't use the chamber pot or slop jar. We had an outhouse, the privy, the necessary, or Ft. Necessity. These terms refer to the outdoor place people used before indoor plumbing and running water in the house moved Ft. Necessity from down the path to down the hall. The extremes of summer and winter made it uncomfortable.

I read about a new toilet in the Home+garden section of the paper yesterday. It is tankless with a touch screen, retractable bidet, foot-warmer with heated seat and it plays music. I sure could have used that back on the farm.

Larry grew up north of Calvertville on a farm and graduated from Worthington High School. He lives in Plainfield and can be reached at Goosecrick@aol.com or (317) 839-7656. Write him at 6860 Sunrise Drive, Plainfield, Ind., 46168. He has written five books.

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In the late '50's, we lived in a house on North Drive in Bloomfield owned by Doey Hash.

Doey had the fields around the home farmed, and rented the house to dad, who had just got out of the Army. My brother and I, along with Pete (the preacher's son from the church next door) used to have a ball running around in the muddy cornfields, and feeding the hogs in the barn. Dad bought two piglets, fed them a ton of feed and slop, then sold them at a loss - dad's only venture into farming.

We had a pump in the kitchen, a phone that had to be cranked, plus we had lightning rods, those were cool.

Of course, there was a two-holer out back. I remember those cold winter nights freezing my butt on those things.

It wasn't long before the snakes and the lack of indoor plumbing got to mom, and we moved into town.

-- Posted by Lil' Hahn on Thu, Sep 1, 2011, at 8:48 AM

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