A Prairie Home Companion from American Public Media: First Person

Privy
By Bruce Trice
October 24, 2007

Thick brown vines with leaves of bright green and yellow fall down the walls all around me.
I reach out to touch them
but they have no feeling.
The stone on the floor feels cool and damp beneath my bare feet.
And a large door beside me closes, shutting out all interruptions.
Now it is quiet.

Alone now and uneasy, I slowly, gently, take my seat.
Seeing the dim light around the corner,
I think I hear a familiar book calling out to me from behind and with an awkward twist, I reach out for it, while at the same time, a sweet aroma fills my nostrils—
It smells like springtime...in the fall.
How pleasant.
Opening the little leather bound to Chapter One,
I settle in to my good book.

A little fan whirs in the distance.
My eyes slowly close while I listen to the soft electronic purr of it's motor.

It is the only sound I hear when,
All of the sudden,
Out of nowhere,
I become relieved.

About the author:
I am a 45 year old 4th generation Arkansan, who became hooked on Garrison and his show while living in Colorado for just over 8 years, until I could stand it no more and moved home almost 9 years ago to the Land of Opportunity, where the kudzu runs free, where just looking at a pine tree can cause you to perspire and where my children can stand on the same ground that their great-great grandparents stood. Speaking of family, I am the father of 4 glorious daughters and 1 strapping son and I have been married to sweet Janice Kathryn for just over 21 years. I wrote this little ditty when my beloved in-laws were at my home, visiting all the way from Bozeman, Montana and I could find no quiet resting place in my moment of need. It's a good thing we bought the house right across the street from Uncle Bennett and Aunt Margie!