Reverend J. T. O. Olander, my mother’s (Dorothy Christoffersen) father, served the Swedish Lutheran congregation in Ogema, Wisconsin, during the late 1920’s and early ‘30’s. My very petite grandma and her portly hubby lived in the parsonage next door to the church.
Times were different in the twenties, especially if you lived in Northern Wisconsin. Grandpa, who emigrated from Sweden, never learned to drive, depended upon others to chauffeur him by horse or car to Prentice, seven miles north, and Westboro, seven miles south, where he served two more congregations. The parsonage may have had running water, but it did not have an indoor toilet.
So, when their daughter Anna and family visited from Wahoo, Nebraska, Grandma had to explain some directives. My cousin Genevieve shared a story about them. Because Wahoo was a small city where their family didn’t lack for modern conveniences, the information was necessary.
Genevieve, five or six, especially remembered the “outhouse” rules. Grandma explained the small rectangular wood block on the outside should be vertical if the toilet was “in use,” but otherwise it should always be in a horizontal position. The person using the facility would have a hook to lock the door from the inside while it was in use. If one left the facility without putting the block in the horizontal position. the door would likely hang open, and my-oh-my, what would people think? Genevieve understood and promised Grandma to be diligent.
The weeklong visit was pleasant. No doubt my uncle took my grandparents on any number of car rides. As a rural mail carrier, Walt Swanson always drove a very nice car and I’m sure Grandma especially enjoyed the excursions—the Ogema area is lovely with its gentle hills, maple and pine forests, plus lakes dotting the landscape.
Sunday came and everyone dressed up for church services. Grandma, especially excited to “show off” her daughter’s family to the congregation, entered the church through the front entrance, as did the rest of the congregation. She led her family to the front pew, where she always sat. Grandpa always entered through the back door, appearing to his flock as the first hymn was played.
Mrs. Heden, the organist, played a prelude before the eleven o’clock service, while the congregation listened in silence. Then the custodian, Mr. Hokanson, rang the bell signifying the beginning of the eleven o’clock worship service whereupon Mrs. Heden transitioned into the first hymn. The season of Trinity is during the summer, so the hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy” comes to mind.
Everyone sang, anticipating Pastor Olander’s appearance. But, he didn’t appear. He didn’t appear during the second stanza, or even the third. Worried looks were exchanged until Grandma wondered whether… or if… oh no… could it be?
Very ladylike — after all, she was Mrs. Olander — she quietly got up from her pew, walked to the rear of the church, and, following her instinct, left the building.
She wasn’t wrong. Grandpa had become a prisoner in the parsonage outhouse, by no other than his granddaughter who had simply followed the rules. Shortly before they’d left for church Genevieve observed the wood block in the position that would most certainly embarrass the family, and she fixed it. Oh… yes, she fixed it.
I have no idea how many more stanzas of “Holy, Holy, Holy” the congregation sang, or just how Grandma must have had to restrain herself from getting the giggles when she returned to her pew, or just how much humor, if any, Grandpa found in the delicate situation. Somehow, he must have known he’d be rescued, and Genevieve never remembered a reprimand.
When she grew up, Genevieve married Norbert Boer, also a minister. I’m sure she told the outdoor privy story of her childhood to many over the years.
