I Grew Up Without a Bathtub

The big farmhouse I grew up in during the 1950s didn’t have a bathroom, but it also didn’t have an outhouse.

A small room at the top of the stairs held a sink and a chemical toilet that needed emptying from time to time. Dad did that job.

We bathed in the back room, the same one we roller skated in as kids. There was a wood-burning kitchen stove in there, at least at first, and a large sink. We’d stand in a galvanized tub, a big one like Dad used on the farm, and use a pan in the sink to wash with. Rinse water ended up in the big tub, which we upended it to drain in the sink, or Mom did until we were big enough to do it ourselves.

After Dad tore down that rickety house about 1961, we moved temporarily to another house without a bathroom. We used the same sink and galvanized tub arrangement as before, but this had “six rooms and a path,” as Grandma Leora used to put it. The path led to an outhouse. That was my senior year of high school.

I escaped to college, where we had bathrooms with showers, but my folks and sister lived in the temporary house another couple of years. Mom was especially thrilled when they moved into the new mouse-free house with a real bathroom, even a bonus “half bath.”

Those two old houses also didn’t have closets, so the folks bought a couple of wardrobes, which ended up in the attic of the new little house (which has plenty of closets–Mom made sure of that).

One of those old wardrobes has made its way to our 1957 ranch house, since the bedrooms are small and so are the closets. But we do have a bathtub and now a walk-in shower. Hurrah for closets and indoor bathrooms!