December 17th 2006

We now return you to the site of our last episode.

I was first at the dig site, as usual, being the conscientious and prompt person that I am. I am never late, but early in most cases, and if not early, I arrive on the exact minute. However, it IS known that a real privy digger is never late. He arrives at the precise moment that he means to. Mike and Steve showed up at 9:03. Slackers !!!

As we were carrying our tools and implements of yardly destruction around back, I noticed Stevo was not looking so good. I commented on this observation and learned that Steve had just come from a household of pukers, and the dreaded stomach virus had invaded his being. He had the greenish glow of fine jade about his cheekbones, but he also wore a look of determination.

We sidled up to the pit we had probed last weekend, right on the property line, and re-probed it to confirm the location of the stone walls. We cut sod and started flingin dirt. After just a few minutes, the neighbor lady came out to check out the hullabaloo. She asked what we were doing and so forth and so on. She commented on how the hole we were digging looked like it came onto her property by a few inches. I explained that during the age when the outhouse stood where we were digging, the property line must have been considered to be a little further over her way than where the single remaining lone ranger of an old metal fence post was, as that seemed to be what was being used as the current boundary marker, rather than any line of stupid 150 year old trees. She went on to say how some guy named BRATER had called awhile back about this sort of thing, and how she told the BRATER guy "NO" on the phone. I chuckled and said that I was one and the same person, and that she probably had some pits in her yard too, and that we might consider digging them if she wanted us to after she saw how cool and neat this present dig turned out to be.

Steve was looking greener, and said he was done. He wished us well and peeled out. 15 minutes later, after some hurling, he was back. He looked much better.

We took the pit down to about 3 feet and were getting discouraging sign with clear glass and plastic. The pit only probed six feet deep. Neighbor lady came over again and this time was SURE that we were in her yard (even though the pit hadn't moved) and that her son was "P'Oed" about it. Not good. We do not do this to make anyone mad, or invade anyone's private property. This is supposed to be fun for everybody. I was sure according to survey measurements we were not on her property at all, but arguing would surely yield no satisfactory results and was out of the question. I told her we might be able to drag the hole over a few inches if it would please her, but it did not seem she liked that idea. We dug down one corner and found no change in age at all on the bottom so we fillderin and decided to probe for something older. We also decided to stay away from that property line. Most times, the neighbors of the lots we dig on want us to dig their pits too, but not this one. That's OK. Plenty more pits to dig.

I walked over to the other side property line and stuck my probe between two giant roots of a massive maple and popped glass all the way down. This pit probed to right up against the fence dividing this side of the yard with the other neighbor, and the neighbor, an older man, was out back pouring concrete and eyeballing us. He came over and chatted and said how interesting it seemed and wished us luck. He also said his pits were probably under his garage, and I agreed. His back yard was almost ALL garage. He even loaned us a saw for some small roots.

This pit was a contortionists nightmare. Two roots as big as my thigh had us choked up bad. We finally managed to dig under them. Finally at about 5 feet the glass showed up in gobs and bunches. The age seemed to be 1870's-1880's. Mostly unembossed druggists were popping out with a square polish or two thrown in. Some broken dolls heads came out, and a couple of marbles. Mike handed up a flat slab of metal and said it felt like lead. I looked at it and saw some words on it. Actually, it was covered with words. It looked like and old printing block of some kind. A local Wm Yeager / West Side Druggist bottle was handed up, along with another Kings Discovery.

Below, me holding a turd, Mike finding a boot.

Below, mike examines a hole that should be too small to get into. It opens up to human size once inside. Stupid roots.

Below, the finds.

I was in the depths cleaning out the bottom and found an intact wax sealer fruit jar, and the only embossing on it is a capital "I" right on the front. I also found a few broken ayers sarsaparilla's and an intact Healy and Bigelows Indian Sagwa and a string lip strap-sided flask with Wm c & Co. on the base.

We filled in the pit and left the renters with a nice assortment of bottles and types. I would like to thank them, the owner of the house, and the neighbor guy for being such nice folks and for finding what we do for fun interesting.

Steve survived, and only had to run off one other time. Hats off to Steve for sticking with it. If it would have been me, I don't think I would have been able to HACK it. (pun intended)

Seeyas Layda.