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The Beginning

I come from a very large family, I myself only have two siblings, a brother and a sister, but my mother is the oldest of 16 children.  Understand she grew up in Saskatchewan, Canada out on a farm where big families were the norm and though it meant more mouths to feed, it also meant more helping hands.  My grandparents eeked out a living on a small farm in the 90 day growing period their region allows.  The standard joke is that there are four seasons here, Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Hell aka Pothole Repair Month.  I never spent much time in Saskatchewan when I was younger, I only actually recall two visits, though I'm told there were at least four.  Family reunions were large and often posed a major strain on the well system that our grandparents had, all guests were told 'if it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down' in order to try and save from flushing the one running toilet the house had from over taxxing their well, (feel free to make a scrunchy nosed ewwww face right here I know I did).  When I was 14, my family made a trip out to BC to celebrate the 40th wedding anniversary of my grandparents.  My father, not much liking hanging around with the in-laws, decided to put himself to work and decided to help with the toilet situation.  There had always been talk of putting in an outhouse, but no one seemed to ever actually get around to building one, my Dad saw fit to put some old lumber to work and asking some help from me, this is how we spent our first few days of vacation.  I don't recall now who actually dug the pit we built the outhouse over, though I do remember that prior to it being used, I would've been hard pressed at 5'9" to stand inside and see over the top edge.  Dad and I hauled the wood over and without any set plans or guides shortly had a large framework in place over the pit that we could start putting siding on.  Amongst all the scrap wood we had gathered, I found some old, somewhat weathered tongue and groove flooring that we decided would do wonderfully as a solid sturdy floor for our outhouse.   When I commented on how large of a building we seemed to be putting up, my Dad laughed and said .. "We're building a shitter for TWO!" I guess he figured if his wife and her 10 sisters and 5 brothers were so set on visiting, they could visit while doing the deed as well.  Over the next two days we cut boards and screwed or nailed them into place and shortly we had the structure up, complete with the tongue and groove flooring, a set of deer antlers holding not only TP but a few nudie magazines that had been donated by some of the older cousins and younger Uncles, as well as two not so new, but still clean and serviceable toilet seat covers.  Dad even went so far as to cut out the little crescent moon shape on the outhouse door!  We had ourselves one seriously classy outhouse!  I am now 37 years old .. my parents are no longer together, my grandfather passed away not too long after that 40th anniversary, my mother has bought the family farm and I and my children are now living in Saskatchewan ourselves, but every time I head out to the farm and pull into the driveway I see that old outhouse still standing, though just barely, and I remember my Dad, much younger looking than he is now, grinning and declaring 'We're building a shitter for TWO!' .. these are the kinds of memories you just can't make up or let go.  I have more stories of that outhouse from when my oldest daughter and I first moved to Saskatchewan, but for now I'll leave it at this .. the beginning ..

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