Sunday, July 24, 2011


Recently at supperclub I heard raucous guffawing coming from the table in the next room. Hating to miss a good laugh, I ambled in. Several ladies were wiping away tears and the story-teller backed it up to repeat his yarn for me.
Harry grinned, "As a kid I was playing in the bathtub when Mama walked in and started hollerin' at me, 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT THING?' So I stopped blowing bubbles, pulled the rubber hose outta my mouth and tried to explain how I was playing Sea Hunt and I was Lloyd Bridges.

'Mama, that red rubber bottle hanging up there is my scuba tank, the tube coming down here, my leads to my regulator and I'm just blowing into my mouth gear here.'

She looked sick, snatched away my pretend equipment with, 'Harry! Never put that in your mouth again! It's NOT scuba equipment!'
It was years later before I realized what it was. But to a kid, it all looked like great scuba gear."

Harry, also a military brat, grew up to become a certified scuba diver, even though he cut his teeth on humble beginnings.

I laughed, "Harry, you remind me of my own adventure when I was about five or six years old."

They egged me on, not that I needed it.

"Daddy was in the Navy and had the duty, which means he spent the night on his ship in port. So the family sometimes joined him for supper and a movie on board.
I needed to use the bathroom. They call it the head. There was no ladies' head so Dad cleared out the men's and guarded the door for me.

I rejoined him and we started back to his quarters as I chattered, 'That was a weird sink, Daddy. That long one on the wall had water running down it and I never could turn it on and off. I just ran my hands up and down it to get 'em wet. But that hard soap in the little, wire basket hanging there wouldn't lather either.'

Suddenly Daddy deciphered my words. He stopped so abruptly I nearly plowed into him. We about-faced back to the restroom. He flung open the door again, pointed to my funny-looking long sink and declared, 'YOUNG'UN! THAT IS NOT A SINK!'

Then pointing to another wall behind me, 'THAT's a sink!'

Oh. I'd not even seen that.

He held both my hands together with his long fingers gripped firmly around my little wrists. He hoisted me as we marched to the men's head sink, my feet air-marching over the deck. Then he handed me a bar of soap, commanding, 'Now, Kathy, you wash again and scrub hard all the way up to your elbows!' He inspected my every move until I passed.

It was years later before I realized what a urinal was. Little girls don't have much occasion for seeing the interior of men's rooms!"

However, I was married while traveling late one night when we stopped for gas. I awoke and stumbled to the bathroom while Doug filled the car. As I flushed the toilet, I spotted a sign on the wall over the tank:


I thought out loud, "That doesn't make any sense, unless you're in a men's room. . ."


I quickly remounted, lifting my feet. I tried to become invisible in my stall, until the MEN in the other stalls left!

Recently I found this new and improved version of the sign:

I'm a slow learner but gradually becoming an expert on the obvious!

Still flushing and blushing,



  1. I love it! I can't wait to view next week's blog! See you at the gym!

  2. Facebook to me
    show details 5:01 PM (2 hours ago)
    Evelyn Upright commented on your link:

    My oldest daughter was invited along with all her classmates to the home of one of her teachers, many years ago. She came home laughing about the saying she saw in the bathroom there:

    "If your hose is too short
    or your pump is too weak,
    Stand closer to the bowl
    or you will pee on your feet."

  3. My friend, Jennifer Guyton( and cellist in our church praise band) emailed me:

    You know clean and potty do not go in the same sentence for me! Loved the blog. It is now making the rounds in the agency!

  4. My friend, Wayne, sees the world differently than most. As do I.

    Wayne Beard to me
    show details 7:42 PM (5 minutes ago)

    Hi Mom!
    Look the new hair washing stations!!!!

  5. Okay, you might as well tell the story of what your son did when Gwen and I were having supper at your house. He could hardly speak, but he got this word out when he opened his hand. (Make it another blog after you get Kent's permission to tell it.)

  6. Oh my word, Ricky! I'd totally forgotten that one. Kimberly did something similar at the Fillingim's house of all places. Thanks for another follow-up blog idea.

    I think I'll just ask the kids for forgiveness rather than permission!

    Love you, lil bro!

  7. "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine..." Prov 17:22 Having said that, I think I've overdosed on this one! Thanks for the laughs ~ way down here in FIJI.

  8. Someone (who shall remain nameless) shared this:

    Kathy, that a was good blog. And to have all those stories to tie together.

    My wife and I stopped at a Pilot station in NC and I asked the clerk where the restrooms were. He was waiting on a customer, never turned his head toward me, but pointed to the back and said,
    "Ladies to left, men to the right.
    Stand up. Sit Down. Fight, fight, fight."

    I got so tickled I nearly missed the urinal.

  9. Brenda Mitton Pelletier (am alumni friend) wrote:

    As a preschool teacher, one of my worst horrors is occasionally finding POOP in a urinal! The little guys think they are low potties....eeewww.

  10. Another alumni:

    Hello, Kathy....don't know if you remember me. Donna (Watson) Tant . I was Dru Short McVay's roommate for many years in Nashville. Went to Cofers.

    I enjoy your blogs about your family since I knew your Mom and Dad and Bert & Dianne. Sorry to hear about Bert. He was always such a great guy.

    Picked up your blog site from Brenda Ragan (my FWBBC roommate) and will definitely make it a regular. Your humor is infectious!!!!

    I live in Charlotte, NC. Moved here in 1979. Am married (31 years) and planning to retire from Wells Fargo next year (can't wait).

    Thanks for sharing on your blog.

  11. Mike Hicks (college classmate)commented on your link.
    Mike wrote:

    Do you remember the "carnival" at FWBBC where you asked everyone who came by, "Do you want a kiss?" Then you puckered up and gave out a (Hershey's) kiss.
    Noooo, Mike, I have no recollection of that but don't doubt it. Doug just verified your memory and said it was an LMA thing. Yeah. . .we'll blame my literary society!