The Beauty of Slop-Pots

Holidays sure are funny. Not really funny "ha ha (although they can be that as well)," but it's a time of sharing and gathering with family and loved ones and you never know where the conversation will lead.

Oh, sure, I can bring up how corrupt Donny Trump is, but when your family is all on the same team, where's the fun in that?

So, I suppose it was inevitable that our holiday chatter eventually wound its way around to outhouses.

"Man, it sure is cold out," I said with an extraordinarily lousy segue. "I would've hated to have to go out to an outhouse and perform my duties. I mean, freezing cold and butt splinters."

Forks were dropped all around the table, but interest rose.

"I would've hated it, too," said my mother-in-law. 

"And why in the world did they have half-moons carved into the doors?" I asked. "Is it to give ventilation? Maybe a spot of moonlight to guide your through your bidness?"

Like magic, electronic gadgets were whipped out. My wife being the fastest supplied the answer. "Yes, the moon was for ventilation and moonlight, but also it was widely acknowledged as a sort of sight language for those who couldn't read. The crescent moon represented a derriere."

While I couldn't quite see how a crescent moon resembled a butt, I said, "Ohhhhhhhhhh," anyway, not wanting to be the dumbest guy at the table.

"Well, another option for certain families was a 'slop-pot,'" offered my mother-in-law.

"Oh? Tell me more," I said as I shoveled a forkful of casserole into my mouth.

"They were ceramic jars with lids for people who didn't want to go out into the cold."

"Huh."

"And sometimes they'd be beautifully decorated."

Suddenly, a whole new world of wondrousness opened up to me. I began to see slop-pots everywhere, planning my next bodily function. Besides there were seven of us and one bathroom.

"So that's what that is in our bedroom," I shouted in a very Sherlockian manner.

"No...that's a spittoon. You'd have to have very good aim," said my mother-in-law.

"And in the hallway...it's a bigger slop-pot!"

"Don't you dare use that, Stuart. That's a butter churner."

See what I mean? Slop-pots everywhere. And before that fateful day, I'd never even heard of them!

Soon, the dinner conversation drifted to potty chairs. "For the wealthier women at high society tea parties, it was considered polite to excuse yourself and use a potty chair," explained my mother-in-law.

"Wait...what?"

"It was usually a wooden chair that had a hole cut out in it with a ceramic bowl beneath to catch stuff. Some of the bowls were beautiful."

"You mean...these hoity-toity ladies were soooooo caught up in their tea parties, they just dropped trou right in the middle of the she-bang and let it drop because they didn't want to miss anything? And no one cared?"

"Well...the chairs were in dark corners of the room and--"

"Gross!"

See what I mean? A whole new world of essential information. Soon, I had another "A-HA" moment.

"Wait a minute..." I said. "My mom had one of those potty chairs in her basement. When my brother and I moved her into an apartment, we secretly threw it away because she didn't want to throw away anything."

Jaws dropped, but forks still remained high.

"You didn't..." gasped my wife. "You threw out... It was a very valuable antique!"

While I mourned my perhaps hasty decision to toss it out, the notion of a "potty chair" going up at an expensive antique auction absolutely fills me with delight. Beauty surrounds us!

The more you know...

Speaking of essential information, while researching the first book in the Zach and Zora comical mystery series, Ms. Google led me down some dark alleys regarding male strippers, places that I'd care not to revisit ever again. So please help my hard-earned research pay off and check out one of the books, Bad Day in a Banana Hammock, Murder by Massage, and Nightmare of Nannies. Only YOU can help to erase the horrific imagery and videos that's scarred me for life!