It was June and I had just finished my sophomore year of high school. Dad worked for the railroad and even though it was a Saturday, he was on a train to somewhere. My older sister, Carol, had decided to take an extra college course and wasn’t home either. As my younger sister, Emily, and I sat down to lunch, Mom broke the news that Uncle Pete and Aunt Denise wanted us to come down to their cabin by the river near Fort Smith, Arkansas. Now, my Uncle Pete, actually Mom’s younger sister’s husband is one cool guy. He owns a fishing and hunting supplies shop and having been there before I can safely say that I can spend hours there.
Any way, Uncle Pete also flies a small twin engine plane and said that he’d fly up to Ardmore and pick us up. The one hour flight was really preferable to the four hour drive. Upon hearing the news, I was all for it, but Emily started to freak out. She had never been on any kind of plane let alone a tiny one like this. At first she said she wouldn’t go, but then relented. Nevertheless she was pretty worked up about it.
Mom didn’t have much notice because Uncle Pete would be here for us on Tuesday. For me, it couldn’t get here fast enough, but for Emily it was another story. But Tuesday did arrive and luckily Dad had some time coming so the four of us got out to the Ardmore Airport about an hour before Uncle Pete in his gorgeous yellow and white Cessna touched down and taxied over to near we were standing. I took one look at poor Emily and thought that her eyes were going to pop out of her head. “You want us to fly in that?!” she said.
“It will be fine, sweetie. I’ve flown with Uncle Pete before and he is a great pilot. He even flew fighters in Korea.”
“Well, OK,” she said as the four of us walked over the plane. We put our bags in back and I got into one of the far back seats. Mom and Em had the middle row, and Dad got the right front, or co-pilot’s seat. The engines started, we taxied out to the runway and had one of the smoothest takeoffs possible. Emily, who was sitting right in front of me, wasn’t saying a word. Mom must have thought she looked a bit pale and reached for one of the barf bags, but fortunately she didn’t need it. The trip went quickly and soon we were back on the ground in Fort Smith. We piled into the back of Uncle Pete’s IH Traveler and soon arrived at the cabin where we met up with Aunt Denise and their twin daughters, Jamie Jo and Mary Fran—to say that these two inherited their mom’s good looks would have been an understatement. They were a year older than Em and a year younger than me.
Uncle Pete and Aunt Denise have a big house in town, but being an outdoorsman and all, they really love the cabin. He’s been slowly upgrading it and just finished the kitchen. The bathroom facilities still need tending to as there was a sink and shower out on what I would call a back porch. For a toilet, they still had an outhouse.
Aunt Denise put out lunch, which was fried catfish po’boys. I thought they were great, but poor Em hardly touched hers. After lunch we decided to head down to the river and take out the rowboat. Being a muddy path, Mary Fran told me to take one of the extra pairs of rubber boots by the back porch as she slipped on her own. At this point Emily was holding back on participating in anything. I only found out later what had happened, but anyway I sure had fun out on the river with my cousins.
If I can piece together the events of the last several days, Emily had gotten herself so worked up about flying on that small plane that she got herself constipated—like four days worth. After the three of us kids had left, she confided in Mom about her problem. Our mom being who she is, had a chat with Aunt Denise, who apparently offered an enema bag that they had at the house. Mom readily accepted, as did Emily, but now we get into some logistical issues such as being discrete in preparation and giving. As for expulsion, Emily would only have one option—that ancient outhouse.
Aunt Denise had sent Uncle Pete into town to do some errands, which gave Mom the personal space that she needed. Still, Mom, was out on the back porch at the sink with the enema bag, so it is fortunate that this cabin is sufficiently secluded. She called Emily and that’s where there was a lengthy discussion on where she would take her enema. The three options were on one of the beds, leaning over a chair on the back porch, or over Mom’s lap up in the outhouse. After much discussion, during which Mom told Em to make up her mind or the enema would soon get too cool, Em decided that the outhouse was probably the best option—she was really hoping that the two girls and me would not make our trip to the river too quick.
So up to the outhouse Emily walked following Mom who had the full enema bag in hand. The outhouse was old and built as they say in those parts as “a two holer”, which also meant that it was sufficiently roomy to allow this particular chore to happen. Mom found a convenient nail on the inside wall and if it hadn’t been intended to hold a syringe for one purpose or another, it should have. She closed the lid on the seat and sat down. Then she beckoned Emily to remove her jeans, lower her panties, and position herself just like she would have at home. A little Vaseline went up Emily’s rosebud, the pipe was inserted, and the enema began.
Now I was not present for these proceedings, but I now pretty much how the conversation goes. Needless to say I have never ever heard of anyone enjoying an enema as much as my sister Emily. Probably the first thing she said was, “Oh, but that feels good.” Mom would tell her to take some nice deep breaths and then speak those encouraging words, “You’re doing just fine. Almost all done.” Emily does not take the easy way out with her enemas because she always takes the whole bag, holds it for at least 10 minutes, and then very patiently expels the whole thing. Like most enemas, this one was very successful.
When Mary Fran, Jamie Jo and I returned from the river the transformation in Emily’s demeanor was dramatic. The only thing that really gave away what had transpired was that the enema bag was inverted on the towel rack on the porch if anyone was paying any attention. Certainly, I knew what happened, but suspect that my two cousins are not strangers to a quart or two of warm soapy water if they need it. Emily asked what we had done down by the river and said she was disappointed to not have been with us. Jamie Jo told her that we could go back and there was probably a pair of rubber boots on the porch that would fit her. No second invitations were needed and we were soon back on the water: Jamie Jo and me in the canoe and Emily and Mary Fran in the rowboat.
The funny thing about Emily’s first flight is that she wasn’t any longer bothered with the idea of flying and coming home even asked to sit up front with Uncle Pete. However years later I couldn’t get the thought out of mind of Mary Fran or Jamie Jo with a nozzle up their bum.