Irene Chisholm's Diary

In 1979, I gave my mother a hardcover blank book and asked her to please write down all the stories of her childhood that she'd been telling me. She claimed she couldn't think of which stories I could possibly want written down. So, I sat down and made a list. I gave her the list and then she gave up and started writing. She didn't write everything on the list, and she wrote a few things that weren't. But she wrote down things in more detail. At first, they were merely interesting. But now, more than fifteen years after her death, they are a treasure trove of history and family knowledge.

Bathrooms

One day Aunt Bernie was remembering an early 'Mother's Day' card from long ago. The verse was 'Who took me from my warm, warm bed and put me on the cold, cold pot and told me to wee, wee, whether I wanted to or not...my mother.' I told her that my mama had stayed in bed and my papa put the potty on the trunk near the bed and set me on the potty.
'I always wondered how Elsie managed. But wasn't it tippy?' she asked.

'He told me to sit still,' I said.
People now a days take their shiny bathrooms for granted. I was maybe six years old when I first had a bath in a real bathtub. It was sort of scary, sooo big and white and shiny, and slippery. The other conveniences were quite mysterious to me. The toilet had a tank way up on the wall. You pulled a little chain to flush it and it made a horrible noise. Those were some of the wonders I got acquainted with when I visited Aunt Mary and Uncle Well in the city.
In the country we had to take baths in a round wash tub. It was filled by hand with water buckets and emptied the same way. When we children were small, Grandma set the tub on two chairs so she could reach us without doing so much bending. We had metal wash basins for hands and face. Also a sink. There was a wooden outdoor toilet we used in all weather day or night, too, if we were brave enough. I remember going with my grandmother, taking a lantern. Shadows were so big and scary. Very black and they moved when we swung the lantern. The smell of kerosene! Kerosene, the odor of night time. Warm and pungent!
For after bedtime we generally used a chamber-pot, generally an enameled bucket or sometimes a smaller pot with a handle like a cup.
When I was six or seven years old (at my stepmother's) I had the job of emptying the pots every morning. It was summer and I was told to empty them by the shrubbery because it was a dry summer and we had to carry our water some distance. Somehow I always water the same shrub, the closest. After awhile the shrub grew pale and unhealthy. The routine had to be changed, but the potties still had to be emptied.
I was glad when we got a real bathroom, about six years later. (At Grandma Howe's.)

Why were they using potties? Remember, this was before the days of indoor bathrooms. It was frequently quite a hike to the outhouse and they didn't have flashlights to light the way. Also, there were bears and other unpleasant things out there to meet in the dark.

By 'city' she meant Seattle. Aunt Mary & Uncle Well (Mary Whitfield & William Cardwell) were on Irene's father's side of the family and lived in Seattle, Washington.

Elsie was her mother, who died from TB and other illnesses when Irene was almost five years old.

The Memories of Irene Whitfield Chisholm

Irene Whitfield Chisholm

Bathrooms

Links

Irene & Jack
Chisholm's
Link Page

IRENE'S DIARY

Credits

The Memories of Irene Whitfield Chisholm

Irene Whitfield Chisholm

Bathrooms

Links

Irene & JackChisholm's Link Page

IRENE'S DIARY

Credits

Irene & Jack
Chisholm's
Link Page