Click here to subscribe today or Login.
The puns run like a leaky toilet.
Why would Fairview Township resident Kevin Engler put a scarlet toilet on his lawn? Maybe it’s in loo of something else.
Perhaps he’s planning on hosting a lawn potty.
Or he might want to christen his yard the W.C. Fields.
Maybe he believes this particular model is a super bowl.
Or that putting it out for all to see makes him Johnny on the spot.
One thing is clear, other community residents were throne for a loop. They saw red.
They tried to tank the display, but the zoning board had no law to handle such a situation.
Now Engler may be leaving it there just because he can.
Regardless, after the township zoning board ruled in his favor, Engler was clearly flush with success, while opponents were just sewer losers.
And those are just the ones suitable for a family newspaper.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the negative reaction some people might have if they saw this thing pop up across the street or down the block. I don’t think I’d be bugged enough to go to the zoning board or city council, at least as long as the toilet was kept clean and free of vermin.
A toilet may represent the most unsavory scatological aspects of society, it also represents a key reason we don’t suffer from numerous diseases in crowded cities, or need to endure malodorous breezes wafting from backyard outhouses on hot summer days.
Besides, paint a toilet bright red and put it in a modern museum, and half the critics will probably dub you a creative genius even as the other half call you as uninspired as a mundane bathroom fixture.
There is also the thought that, if a person wants a crimson toilet in his yard, there may be deeper issues at work in the neighborhood.
An underappreciated cultural icon
One expects this will all disappear eventually. It’s a little hard to believe the toilet will stay on the lawn forever, even if no one manages to criminalize the display by, say, passing an ordinance that makes the township less, er, a-commode-ating.
(Sorry).
But with a little effort, it could become an homage to an underappreciated cultural icon, a testimony to our appreciation of indoor plumbing and underground sewer lines that allow us to relieve in warm privacy.
Heck, it could even become a tourist attraction, though I can see how neighbors might prefer it be relocated to a place less residential.
The picture of a bright red porcelain pot sitting prominently on Engler’s lawn reminded me of a poem my eldest brother wrote in a fit of inspiration during his Boy Scout days. He penned it in one of the many wooden stalls of the latrine at Camp St. Andrew decades ago. Engler could have it inscribed on a bronze plaque mounted to the tank.
Ode to a toilet.
When all my other friends are gone,
I could always count on this old john.
It stood here daily a steadfast friend
Always ready to tend my end.
Here I came in times of pain
And found relief from the awful strain
It may be cold and hard to touch
But what other friend would do as much?
So take good care of this old pot,
And give these words some serious thought.
For a friend in need is a friend in need.
But a toilet is a friend, indeed.