Our old Victorian house had a clothes chute that had been added during one of its many renovations over the years and the kids in our family loved to play in it.  We dropped all manner of clothes, toys and even food down the chute, all of it landing in the catch bin in the basement.   The chute also had an opening on the main floor of the house and we would try to catch things as they went by, usually without success.

Aside from the usual hazards of falling to the bottom or the nails sticking through, we often tried to go down the chute or climb up it at least as far as the first floor.  We even waited just inside the chute at the first floor level for our mom to open the door to drop something down it only to have one of us looking out in an effort to scare the living daylights out of her.  No matter how many times we did it to her it was always a big laugh, at least for us if not for our mom.

The opening to the chute on the second floor was a simple door that opened up and it made it very convenient for accessing the chute.  It was also a real easy way to get rid of any “evidence” from childhood activities that our parents did not support.

Another benefit of the chute was that the opening on the first floor was in our kitchen where our parents spent 90 percent of their time when they were home.  This meant that we could eavesdrop on them and figure out what they were saying about us, for us or what they were planning to do to us.  This feature not only prepared us for impending punishment but also gave us warning if something bad was about to happen.  Unfortunately it also let us know about any surprise trips or gifts we were about to receive thus spoiling the surprises.

Over the years each of us probably climbed up the chute on more than one occasion and luckily enough none of us ever got stuck.  We did often emerge with good scrapes or scratches as well as enough splinters to make us float on water but we could not resist that chute.