Tikkabik

One of the glories of living on Cape Cod is an almost total lack of municipal sewerage systems. Most all of us use septic systems, which is completely backwards, if you think about it, for a region that prides itself on such environmental beauty. But the infrastructure just isn't here to support running such a complex and expensive system, so we settle for flushing our toilets into tanks in our backyards, and nitrogen-loading the hell out of the local aquifers as a result. Of course, all the fertilizers we're feeding the Cape's ubiquitous golf course greens don't help.

We have to get those tanks pumped out periodically to make sure there isn't an excessive buildup of "sludge" -- without getting too graphic, the solid waste material that settles to the bottom of the tank from the outflow of water from the toilets, sinks, and laundry equipment in the house. Today was that day -- we had it done about two years ago, and it was due.

A large tanker truck pulls into the driveway, and the driver pulls out a huge vacuum hose and a pair of shovels. He digs a hole in the back yard to find the cover of the septic tank, and sticks the hose in to suck up all that stuff.

It's a smelly, noisy affair that raised a chorus of complaints from the children.

"That's stinky," said James.

"It is," I told him. "But you know what that smells like to the guy doing it?"

"What?"

"Money."

James didn't understand. In his simplistic seven-year-old view of the world, people vacuumed poop out of each others' back yards just for fun.