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Saturday, March 30, 2019

A chamber pot, by any other name is still gross.

Now this morning you are going to learn something you probably could have gone the rest of your life without knowing, and yet here I am.  Since I lived through the chamber pot days, you ought to at least be able to read about them!  So here we go!

Once upon a time, long, long ago,  there was a little girl who lived in a ramshackle house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.  She lived there with her mother, father, older sister, older brother and 3 younger sisters.  The house had electricity, but they never used it except to run the pump and the washing machine.  They did not want to "wear it out" nor did they want to appear "uppity."  They owned a car, but it was only used on Sundays when the went to Plevna to see great grandma Hatfield and Grandma Haas.  They were simple folks, you see.

The house had 2 bedrooms, a front room, a dining room and a kitchen/laundry/Saturday night bath room and a book case with Nancy Drew mystery's on the shelves.  Oh, and Brenda Starr.  So I guess that was also a library.  The "front" bedroom was Dad's, but he had to share with us big kids, Josephine, Jake, Donna, Mary and me. Dorothy slept with Mother in the middle (other) bedroom.  Mother needed her privacy and the only time we were allowed to sleep with her was when we were sick.

Ah, but back to the chamber pot business.  For those of you who are antique collectors you will recognize a "chamber pot" as a porcelain bucket with a handle for carrying.  Usually it was white with a lid and a line of blue around the top for decoration.  I never quite understood that whole decoration thing, but I guess it is what it is.  The main purpose (Well actually, the ONLY purpose.) of the chamber pot was to hold human excrement during the night and was immediately emptied upon the household arising.  It was called a chamber pot, because most people had a private area when one could go in and close the door and do "their business in private.  Not us!  Nope.  We did not have a chamber anywhere in that house and if we did there would no doubt be a kid in there.  It was probably about 120 feet from the back door of the house to the outhouse.  Now I do not know if you have ever been out in the wilds of Nickerson, Kansas, at night without a flashlight, but let me tell you, that is one damn scary place.

Number one, our house was probably about a block from the cemetery, and there was that business of ghosts for our little minds to deal with on dark, moonless nights.  Nights with a full moon were even worse!  And the river was not far so it was not unusually to hear a wolf, coyote or cougar howling or screaming and scaring the living shit right out of us.  That, coupled with the fact that dad had seen Gypsies camped on the outskirts of town and you know what that meant.  You see Gypsies came into towns and stole the children.  Luckily we never actually missed anyone, but that was because people like my father seen them and made the kids stay inside.

But back to the chamber pot saga!  Ours set right under the window between the kids bed and dad's bed.  After dark we were free to use the chamber pot and by morning it was full.  Now I trust I do not need to tell you what it was full of, do I?  It was usually Jake's chore to take it out to the outhouse and dispose of it, rinse the container and turn it upside down to drip dry and air out.  When Josephine eloped at the tender age of 15 or so and Jake left home, the duty fell to me.  I was smart enough to know that the sooner I got that thing the lighter my chore would be.  If I waited too long those other kids would not go outside and soon it was full to the brim.  Just try carrying one of those things without slopping it on your feet.

We left that house when I was 16 and I never ceased to be amazed that we had an "inside bathroom" in every house we lived in after that.  Not only did the houses have a commode that flushed, but there was a small sink to wash my face and look in the mirror.  And the bathtub!  My God!  That was pure bliss to sink into and soak. (It was also handy for throwing up in when I came home so drunk I could not hit the stool!  But that is another story and we probably are not going to go there!  Sorry, momma.)

Speaking of bathrooms, I probably ought to get off here and go clean mine.  Thinking back on those years always makes me appreciate what I have now.

Have a good day and thank the Lord for the little things he gives you.  You could be growing up on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

I too grew up in Kansas..I'm just a bit younger than you,so I did not have to grow up with a chamber pot...however when I would go visit my grandmother in Wichita,there was a chamber pot for night. She owned a boarding house, and there was only one bathroom...and it was upstairs. Since she had 2 boarders upstairs,and herself and one more downstairs...she would not go,or allow me to go upstairs in the middle of the night..so I had to use that horrible thing.
I can't imagine having to use it all the time.
Enjoyed your reminiscing.
Joyce

kokuaguy said...

I was born on April 4th in Akron CO in 1948 (on the early side of the "boomer" generation) to a couple who were Navy veterans--Mom was a WAVE. That day will live in infamy as the day that we tragically lost the great Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1968. But 20 years earlier my father left Colorado for South Dakota with two of his siblings and the spouses. Farms that had been foreclosed were being offered dirt cheap to veterans and the three families were eager to escape the terrors of living in proximity to the narcissistic, violent patriarch of the Salling clan, known throughout Washington County as a goldplated assh*le. I don't recall any chamber pots specifically but do remember the excitement of the installation of the indoor toilet in our little farmhouse located four miles from tiny Hecla, S.D. Obviously there must have been a time before that when the family members sometimes did our business inside the house, especially during the long, frigid north country winters. The outhouse remained in place for some time thereafter, and we could unearth salamanders if we dug carefully in the ground close to it. Don't ask me why my cousin and I wanted to find the slimy harmless little creatures. The bathroom was small, but there was a tub so Saturday night baths in a galvanized washtub in the kitchen came to an end. One of Mom's stories about the bathroom will always stick in my mind. She suffered postpartum depression after the third pregnancy and told us about the day when she felt she had to lock herself in the bathroom and send me to fetch our father and tell him she was afraid she might kill us all.

Unknown said...

I enjoyed this! We did not have a chamber pot, but when we moved into my great-grandmother's old house, we had a bathroom with no walls, only curtains, that was added in the 60's. When I read it to my husband, he said they had a chamber pot when he was a very little boy, before his dad built a bathroom on their house. Thanks for the stroll down memory lane!

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