When I was a child on our Nebraska farm, I remember Dad saying, with a little grin, that he was going to the “Sheriff’s Office.” I didn’t know what he meant until Mother told me that it was the outhouse. Sometimes, someone would come to our front door to see Dad. Mom would send me out the back door, behind the washhouse, and back to the “Sheriff’s Office” to get Dad.
I am married now and have children of my own. They have had the privilege of visiting Grandpa and Grandma on their farm. They thought it was really neat to get to use the “Sheriff’s Office.”
My daughter was talking to Grandma a few weeks ago and wondered what Grandpa found out at the “police.” Mom and I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about until we remembered she was talking about the “Sheriff’s Office,” none other than the old OUTHOUSE.
Rosemary Holloway
Vancouver, Washington
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
