When I was a kid, our toilets backed up. The block where we lived in Elmhurst had a lot of big trees and their roots would get into the sewer pipes and cause our plumbing to clog.

My dad never called a plumber during my entire childhood—EVER.

He’d head off to rent a Roto Rooter so he could clean the pipes out himself.

Well, not exactly himself. My brother and sister and I were his helpers.

The access to the pipe that connected from our house to the sewer system on the street was located in the crawl space of our house, a dingy space illuminated by one bare light bulb on a pull string.

One of us would crawl on hands and knees helping to get the Roto Rooter attached. Then you’d have to put the snake through the pipe over and over again until the blockage was removed.

This was not a job I enjoyed helping with. Once, when I complained about getting poop on my hands, my dad … [continue reading...] about Roto Rooters