There is already a post on this blog about Neosho, MO also known as the Flower Box City, but it seems like the Life Magazine Archives recently received a great many new color photos (or I just failed to notice them before). These photos look like stills from the Andy Griffith Show except they were not taken in the imaginary Mayberry, but in the very real American town of Neosho, not too far from here, for the 1955 Life Magazine article “Flowery Face Lift, Neosho learns what petunias and marigolds will do for a town”

Until six months ago the 5,790 residents of Neosho, Mo. took for granted the colorless environment they shared with many other small towns in the U.S. Then the New York Community Trust, a $20 million fund administered by 15 banks, picked Neosho for a test run in civic beautification by offering $5,000 in prizes for the handsomest window boxes. 

Suddenly Neosho burst out into a flowery rash of red, pink and gold. The prize money was all but forgotten as the community plunged headlong into a floral face lift which quickly showed not only Neosho but surrounding towns how much could be done with a little money and effort. Housewives planted petunias in old baby buggies and potbellied stoves. Merchants splurged on fancy trimmings like concrete and wrought iron. The city piled free dirt near the jail and found new use for municipal trashcans. Postman David Weems articulated everybody’s feelings: “It’s a wonderful thing-it just looks nice all over town.”

Before I move on with the continuation of my ever-popular crapper series I’d like to clarify something. The reason I am writing these is not to get some compassion for the misery that I and my countrymen had to go through. Even with the lack of modern conveniences millions of happy and meaningful lives were lived in the USSR. Many scientific breakthroughs were made by people who after work went back to their crappy communal apartments. Many cultural masterpieces were created by people with no running water in sight. Millions of children were conceived while someone else was sleeping in the other corner of the same room. On the other hand, there are miserable people leaving in the mansions with 6 bathrooms and loads of toilet paper. What I am trying to say is that life conditions are important but even more important are families, friends, surroundings, etc. When everything else is peachy, the toilet paper shortage is not so relevant.
Now back to the subject.

Outdoor Plumbing.

Outdoor plumbing is an oxymoron.
There wasn’t any plumbing outdoors. In most of the rural areas and old parts of town for their natural needs people visited an outhouse. Regular outhouse looked kinda like this sans the raccoon, heating and funny signs. It was normally situated above the giant hole in the ground which sometimes was pumped out à la “Dirty Jobs”. (notice the abundance of the French words in my blog). I am not sure how the rest of them were emptied but I’ve never heard about septic tanks until I got here. Some of these were regular “squat” types and the other ones had a way to sit down on a toilet seat. If you ever get to visit one of these I recommend to not look down the hole. Just take my word on this.
People who owned these outhouses kept them clean and tried to insulate them from cold. I’ve never seen a heated one, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t any. During the cold times of the year these places did not encourage prolonged sessions with a funny book.An old army joke talked about having to have a partner while going to the bathroom above the Arctic Circle: one will do his business and the one other will stand by with an axe in case the first one had to be separated from the toilet. In these areas liquids freeze before they hit the ground.
As I’ve mentioned above, many toilet facilities were of the “squat” type where you’d find a hole of various shapes (with some evil crap inside, don’t look down) and sometimes there were markings where to place you feet. Feet placement was also guided by disgusting stuff on the floor. You just had to try not to step in the unknown hazardous waste (not all people have excellent aiming skills and that’s all I’m going to say about that). When I was in the army our outdoor facility was a huge concrete building with 40 to 60 holes in the floor and a 20 yard trough for #1 (I’ve heard that Chiefs stadium has some of these). In the morning, when 300 people visited it at the same time my eyes would tear up, and not because I was so proud or whatever. It wasn’t a smell anymore, it was a wall of ammonia-laden mist. Surprisingly,within few minutes, the smell became bearable and you could go on about your business. To sanitize the out-buildings they spread some kind of powder similar to mix of DDT, dry Clorox and Lysol. I should also mention that the building had no doors and partial walls so all the warmth was generated…sorry, I told you not to look down there. When we were on a mission they just dug a trench and surrounded the area with tarps (no roof). Notice that the squat toilets did not discriminate against handicapped, elderly and pregnant women. Just imagine doing it with any of these conditions. I still have great balancing skills.
Sometimes people rebelled and improved the age-old design as shown in exhibit to the right. Sometimes it was more ingenuous than that but this will give you an idea. Notice that there are no dividers. Enjoy the company!
If you are feeling deprived of the genuine squat toilet experience, some schmuck is promoting a device to convert your nice, comfortable throne into a squatting nightmare. It will cure your depression, impotence and make your hair grow back. I, on the other hand, will enjoy some time in one of my two bathrooms with an issue of “Consumer Reports”.
To be continued.
P.S. This blog is not responsible for trauma caused by your attempts to climb up on your toilet. Do not try this at home.

It’s no surprise that I find a lot in common with people 30 year older than me – we share similar memories. But since I am physically not old enough to retire to a front porch where I’d whittle and chase kids off my lawn, occasionally telling educational “in my day…” stories to anyone who would listen, I have to resort to occasionally posting these stories on this here blog. Just like it says in these unfunny pictures old(er) women share on Facebook: “age is nothing but a number”, and my number is 67. I wish the Social Security would agree.

In my day we didn’t go to physicals, the physicals came to us…

…and while the entire class and Lenin himself were watching, the annual health inspection would commence.

Soviet people were genetically predisposed to reading between the lines. When on November 10, 1982 all three available TV channels started showing non-stop symphonies and ballets, we knew that something wasn’t right. Rumors and predictions started circulating among the population and finally, when the government couldn’t keep it a secret any longer, a news anchor in a most somber voice possible announced that the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev died just a few weeks short of his 76th birthday. Twenty six years ago today many people didn’t know what would happen. Brezhnev was in power for a generation and became so associated with the Soviet Union that it was hard to imagine the next leader taking his place. Little did we know that his successor was already picked while Brezhnev’s body was still warm. It wasn’t that many people thought that Brezhnev was actually running the country; long before he died, he became a butt of many jokes (still not openly told), his 5-hour speeches broadcast in full length and couple of books someone wrote for him were required and unwelcome reading in schools and everywhere else. The regime change is always a time of uncertainty and many people didn’t know what to look forward to. During later Brezhnev years the quality of life, still very low compared to many developed nations, somewhat stabilized, people felt better, happier and more upbeat. The same years were also marked by huge levels of corruption, bribery, Brezhnev cult of personality and total disillusionment with socialist ideas.These were the years of Brezhnev Stagnation.

When we went to school the next day, the building was decorated in red and black colors of mourning. We had a meeting where the teachers read the announcement and some even pretended (?) to cry. However, the most exciting thing about your country’s leader dying is a day off. Unfortunately all the movie theaters were closed on that day, so there was no other entertainment available except watching the funeral, and it was a funeral of a lifetime.

The funeral procession was led by high-ranking officers each carrying a small pillow with one of Brezhnev’s 114 medals. At 12:45 the Red Square and the rest of the country went silent for a moment so everyone heard thunderous sound of a dropping coffin. Then every siren and factory whistle in the country went off. No other head of state funeral ever matched Brezhnev’s.

Unofficial accounts of Brezhnev’s life painted him as a very personable guy, with a great sense of humor, generous and sensitive, movie lover and a fan of Chuck Connors – The Rifleman. Most of us didn’t know any of that, we just saw an old man who half the time didn’t seem like he knew where he was and what he was doing and still remained one of the most powerful men in the world.

More photos.

To call this a recipe is an overstatement, nevertheless I like it and so does my kid. It will pump your levels of vitamin A so high you’ll get an X-ray vision.

Here goes: peel some carrots (I used 2 lbs) and shred them using any available method (I used food processor). Here is a hint: if you are planning to shred carrots by hand, do not buy a whole bunch of small  ones, you will regret it. Add salt, maybe a tablespoon or two of mayonnaise and as much pressed garlic as you can handle. Bam!

P.S. Mayonnaise haters need not comment; it’s French and, therefore, delicious.