Jeanette Levellie
“Did you see that?” my husband guffawed, pointing out the car window on a recent road trip.
“No, what was it?”
“A billboard for an Outhouse Festival; I can’t believe it!”
By now, I was giggling, too. “What is there to celebrate about outhouses?”
I understand celebrating honeybees, covered bridges and Raggedy Ann and Andy. Bring on the parades. Sell deep-fried Twinkies and lemon shake-ups. Hire a brass band to play on the town square.
But, outhouses? Every time I’m forced to use one, I am not thinking of ponies, trombones and yummy junk food.
I suppose they are a great invention, if you’re out in the middle of Nowheresville and can’t find a bush. But to have an entire weekend dedicated to holes and the houses that hide them? How desperate must you be for something to party over?
If you really want to celebrate, I have a few ideas for you:
Celebrate living in a nation where you have a free education, can criticize a political candidate without being arrested and can worship whatever god you choose.
Celebrate being rich, even if you only have one set of clothes and food for today. Most dogs and cats in this country live better than millions of people in the world.
Celebrate that you are in sound enough mind and have decent enough eyesight to read this article.
Celebrate a God who gave you all the wonder of creation simply for your enjoyment and who loves you just as you are.
I’ll bet you can come up with a few more reasons to celebrate: things we fail to appreciate until we’re without them. For that matter, next time I go camping, I may have to reconsider celebrating an outhouse after all.
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