Crafting a parade privy worth a single sit
Nowhere on the miles-long list of things I’d hoped to do this summer does the phrase “build an outhouse” appear. This is logical enough, given we live in town where such structures were rendered obsolete over a century ago by the twin miracles of indoor plumbing and the sanitary sewer system.
Nostalgia is a strange creature, however, and if one wishes to draw people’s attention to a common theme shared by human beings near and far and across the generations, few things seem more capable than a ramshackle wooden privy — at least that’s what our parade committee decided.
When the idea of an outhouse to anchor the deck of our parade float bubbled to the top, Kristin and I recognized it as an opportunity. Never a pair to back down from a creative challenge, we figured fashioning a boxboard version of the time-honored “four narrow walls and a board with a hole in it” would be, for lack of a less offensive pun, gravy. This was something we could build at our own place and at our own pace, then simply ferry it to float-assembly headquarters in the back of my old pickup. We left the meeting with orders to construct a cardboard crapper, due date mid-August.
Those who know us well recognize the fact that nothing ever gets done before the last minute at our place. If 38 years of couplehood has taught Kristin and me anything, it’s that “deadline” is synonymous with “delivery date.” As long as whatever we are writing, drawing, constructing or otherwise creating is there when its figurative parade steps off, we have nailed the deadline.
Despite a solid record of meeting target dates and icing time limits — very often at the cost of a few nights’ sleep — our parade committee chair wasn’t having it. She needed to see progress. So out of infinite respect for Madam Chairwoman and our allegiance to the greater cause, I set about the actual construction of the “sit shed” this past weekend — a full month ahead of deadline and coincidentally the hottest weekend yet this summer.
For the record, Kristin and I once spent three full, nonstop days crafting a 4-foot-tall penguin out of scrapped-out lawn furniture, chicken wire and paper machete as a fixture on a Fourth of July parade float. Years later “Percy the Penguin” remains a holiday mainstay.
I wish I’d kept a log of the questions of the neighbor kids as they spent the day checking in on me while, through a thunderstorm of perspiration, I sawed, screwed, hammered and stapled the colon cottage into existence in the sweltering shade of my garage. Despite my early efforts at a polite explanation of just exactly what an outhouse is, none of them could quite wrap their tiny minds around the idea that something other than a porcelain pot had ever even existed. I finally gave up on the truth and told them I was making a tiny house for the child-eating troll who lives near the railroad tracks that run through our neighborhood. (I figured I’d give them a good, healthy scare while I was at it!)
With my part of the project finished and Kristin’s task of transforming a simple cardboard coffin box into a beautiful, nostalgia-inspiring “squatting shed” just ahead, I’m sure the children will be filled with even more questions for her.
It’ll all make sense for them if they just show up at the big parade celebrating 175 years of the Wayne County Fair on Saturday, Aug. 17 in beautiful downtown Wooster. Mark your calendars. We’ll hope to see you there!
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.