Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law

I’d cringe on Sundays when I was a young boy staying with my grandparents and my Uncle Pete would head for the house’s sole bathroom, bringing with him the Sunday newspaper.  Now back then those Sunday papers were about the size of a Georgia cotton bale, not the wimpy, thin-as-a-fashion-model things you see today.  So for the next few hours, if I needed to “go,” it was going to have be outside behind the chicken coops.  It's funny what your memory holds on to.