November 23: Ash Pit

When I was little my grandfather used to call me Snicklefritz and jokingly threaten that he was going to throw me in the ash pit.

All city houses had alley ash pits. My next door neighbor still has hers, full of dirt and weeds. I can see where mine was and where the one across the alley probably was. And they were literally ash pits--a place to put ashes from the fire place, the coal furnace, and also, of course, for trash to burn.

Nowadays our fireplaces aren't used (or are converted to gas); the furnaces are on the natural gas line; trash goes in the dumpsters. I am fond of dumpsters overall, having lived in places with roll out carts or bags by the front curb. I like having things hide in the alleys.

But I like that our houses are old enough to have the vestiges of this kind.