Bathroom competency is a key developmental marker of early childhood. Parents dream of the day when they no longer have to worry about an 'accident'. In the child's mind, two concerns are uppermost with regards to the bathroom: getting there on time and a toilet that works. Truth be told, even adults fret over those same things. The quantity of emotional capital invested by both parents and progeny trying to avoid bathroom failure no doubt explains why the following events are so clear in my mind.
Our trailer park years were spent without a television. The lack of an 'idiot box', as my Mom occasionally referred to T.V., contributed to my being an avid reader. It also made the hour or so of television rationed to us at Grandma Gene's a coveted treat. There were two afternoon programs I remember distinctly: Dialing for Dollars at 3:00, and a kids program hosted by Johnny Downs 30 minutes later. One particular afternoon, Phil was napping as the time for the Johnny Downs show approached, having already slept through Dialing For Dollars. Anticipating how grumpy he would be if he missed the entire afternoon's allotment of television, I rushed in to get him from the bedroom. Not wanting to miss any of the program myself, I half-drug Philip out to the living room, where we stopped and stood watching just as the show started. On the oval rug in front of us was the the Gardner's old dachshund ‘Snitzer’. While dachshunds can be small, hyper and annoying, Snitzer was larger, older, and mostly quiet. His favorite place was the large oval rug in the center of the living room which also happened to be directly in front of the television.
As we stood watching the black and white screen, events took a dramatic turn. Snitzer yelped and darted for the kitchen. I looked down and saw a stream of liquid arcing from Phil to the oval rug on the floor. In horror I yelled, "What are you doing?"
The next thing I knew, Grandma Gene, alerted by the commotion, appeared in the doorway. I cannot imagine how the two of us looked, standing rather stupidly by a large wet spot on the rug. The rug went out in short order, reappearing some days later, presumably after a trip to the dry cleaners. From then on, I made sure Philip hit the bathroom any time I decided to get him up from a nap.
On another afternoon when I was in 3rd or 4th grade, I meandered over to Grandma Gene’s after school as usual. It was one of those warm, bright days common to Fallbrook in the late spring. As was our practice, I entered the house by the back door which opened to the kitchen. Oddly, no-one seemed to be there. I called out. No answer. I walked through the house and went out to the garage. Nobody. The chinchilla side of it was locked. I walked completely around the house and the garage. Deserted. Then, with a chill of fear like I’d never known, it hit me: the Rapture had taken place and I’d been Left Behind. Though reasonably confident in my child-like faith, I had a lingering fear that due to some misunderstanding, I might be left out when Jesus returned. Now, it seemed I had been. Why else would the house be empty with the door unlocked? I wandered around for a few more minutes pondering my fate. I decided my only option was to walk home and find out if any of my family remained. Which would not be so good for them, but at least I could share this dire destiny with someone I knew. Before setting out on the trek for home, I desperately needed to go to the bathroom. Though it felt odd to be using the facilities without permission, I reasoned that the place was now abandoned. Who would care? But, when I flushed, the toilet started to back up! To my relief, the rising water stopped just short of running over. Not knowing what to do and with no-one around to ask, I left things in that precarious state and trudged home.
When I arrived in something less than an hour, I found out that my sisters and brother had not been raptured either. When Mom came home a bit later, she reminded me that I had been told to take the school bus home because Grandma Gene was out of town that day. The next morning, we were dropped off at Grandma Gene's as usual. Before Mom left, to my embarrassment, I heard a wry remark about how I’d left my ‘calling card’. Still, that was a minor inconvenience in the context of my relief at knowing I did not have to face the Tribulation.
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