Memories and Ode to the Potty Chair. Oct 9,1938 at 4am, I was born. Late. My Grandfather's birthday was the 8th. Diapers were the call of the day. Mom seemed glad at first I thought that I would be able to start using the potty. I did not see that I could fit and threw a fit. I was getting good at that by now. The Potty was a small pink pan. I finally learned to accept it and could hit the pot. Next came the "Slop Jar". A large bucket quarter full of water, for overnight use. Hard to sit on, but better than nothing. Then it was time to graduate to the Potty Chair. Having my own çhair made me feel big. Then the day came when I j was in a told I had to the big toilet. Then we moved to my Grandparents. They did not have indoor toilet and this gave me the first feel of going to the Outhouse. Once we moved the toilet indoors, we soon said goodbye to the Outhouse, Then you had to 'Run' indoors or 'Else'. Now indoors I now used the potty chair. Going to school, marriage and with age came falls. Then it happened. I graduated back to the 'PottyChair' or the new name of 'BedsideToilet'.
I wrote the following in its memory. I call it "The Midnight Ode to the Bedside Potty Chair".
There you sit, waiting for use, with years of heritage, Better than that hole in the ground, Better than that Ole Outhouse, You are Inside, not out, It is better than the Ole Slop Jar, but remember one thing when thru, Don't Flush. Jon P Czarowitz
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