Story Time
I've just started reading The Story Girl by L.M. Montgomery and it's inspired me to share one of my mom's stories. My mom grew up in rural Southern Pennsylvania in a small home with a large backyard. In that backyard was an outhouse. I don't remember if that outhouse was in use at the time of this story, or if it was just waiting to be town down.
Regardless, the outhouse was strictly off limits as a play area. As the eldest child, my mom knew this, as did her sister Donna. For reason, Mom could not recall, they both decided to play in the outhouse one day as their mom did laundry in the basement.Maybe, it was knowing they would not get caught that inspired them.
They found some old boards and covered the holes that made up the seats in the outhouse and called it a stage, where my aunt sang and danced for the audience, my mom. The louder my mom clapped the more exuberantly my aunt danced until the board slipped away from the hole and my aunt fell in.
Horrified, my mom took off running through the yard toward the house. Aside from crying with fear, she had difficulty running due to what would later be diagnosed as Muscular Dystrophy. She'd run, fall down, get up, run, and fall down again, till she reached the basement door.
Hearing what had occurred, my grandma rushed to the outhouse to retrieve my aunt, who aside from some scrapes and a bruised dignity, was fine. Relived, my grandma then scolded them both for disobeying the rules.
The funny thing about this story, is that my mom always told it as a comedy. I could see my aunt as a little kid, whirling and twirling around in a smelly old outhouse, my mom sitting on the ground, clapping and cheering. My mom laughed during the telling, though assured me that at the time, it was not funny in the least. Most really good childhood stories are that way.
Regardless, the outhouse was strictly off limits as a play area. As the eldest child, my mom knew this, as did her sister Donna. For reason, Mom could not recall, they both decided to play in the outhouse one day as their mom did laundry in the basement.Maybe, it was knowing they would not get caught that inspired them.
They found some old boards and covered the holes that made up the seats in the outhouse and called it a stage, where my aunt sang and danced for the audience, my mom. The louder my mom clapped the more exuberantly my aunt danced until the board slipped away from the hole and my aunt fell in.
Horrified, my mom took off running through the yard toward the house. Aside from crying with fear, she had difficulty running due to what would later be diagnosed as Muscular Dystrophy. She'd run, fall down, get up, run, and fall down again, till she reached the basement door.
Hearing what had occurred, my grandma rushed to the outhouse to retrieve my aunt, who aside from some scrapes and a bruised dignity, was fine. Relived, my grandma then scolded them both for disobeying the rules.
The funny thing about this story, is that my mom always told it as a comedy. I could see my aunt as a little kid, whirling and twirling around in a smelly old outhouse, my mom sitting on the ground, clapping and cheering. My mom laughed during the telling, though assured me that at the time, it was not funny in the least. Most really good childhood stories are that way.
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