A poem about remembering all the outhouse had to offer.
Many daydreams I recall, Were spun in the outhouse
When I was small.
Mother would call
"Come do the dishes!"
Old Mother Nature, invariably Would change her wishes.
To the old shanty
We would retreat,
Looking thru Sears & Roebuck Was a real treat.
After what seemed like hours We got back,
To find the dishes
Were all still stacked!
When the north wind blew We would hurry
"Our throne" was neither Padded nor furry.
Thru hail and sleet, Rain and snow, "Like the Mail -" We had to go!
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.
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