The Basement in A New House on a New Landscape

Basements are interesting places in some houses. The word actually conjures a bit of a dark feeling to it, as though something relegated to the basement has been banished into an netherworld of secretive history. They can be finished and livable spaces, or still cinder-block and concrete places where pipes run, insulation runs along the ceiling, and sometimes where a wood stove is kept.

As a child, I loved to play in the basement, even though it was unfinished, had a wood stove, and was rather dusty and dirty. I can recall at a young age, before I had siblings, there was a section to the right of the stairs where an over-sized black trunk created a platform for a television. Before it I tugged my childhood bean bag and little lounging chair, and we moved the Atari system and hooked it up there. I could play it to my heart’s content! It didn’t last long, eventually the system was returned to the upstairs where it was set upon the shelf and hooked to the tv there; players had to sit upon the floor to use the system, but it worked fine.

Our basement stairs are a bit steep, so as you descended them, you had to be mindful of each one. Since we kept a wood stove down stairs, the door would be open most of the year, except summer. There was a sturdy wooden gate with a strong latch at the top to prevent children from tumbling down the steps during open door times. There were shelves that you walked beneath as you went down them, though I never understood how anyone reached anything upon those. In front of you, across from the bottom step are a wall of shelving that contains so many odds and ends of things, I couldn’t begin to describe it. It’s the lost and found of every decade a family has lived there. (6 decades now) It’s as though the kitchen junk drawer just exploded all over those shelves.

To the left side of the basement, there is a refrigerator from the 1920s. I kid you not. It still runs, and it still works better than anything they build today. Do you know that post WWII they dumped into the ocean hundreds of household appliances that were heading over to Europe? Yep, it was cheaper than bringing them back. What a waste.

Next to the fridge is a giant chest model deep freeze. Next to that are some brick and board shelves that stand about 6 feet high and are loaded with all the stuff my Mom canned. I grew up with canned tomatoes, canned peaches, pears, applesauce, green beans, jams, jellies, pickles–we never bought any of this stuff from the store. In the back corner, next to the basement door that led to the outside world was the washer and dryer corner. There were places to hang clothing from the ceiling and on the hanging stands on the floor. Outside the basement door were steep concrete steps leading up to the carport; these were surrounded by a wrought iron fence with a strong latch gate. Next to the door, the hot water heater, and a sectioned off space of flooring with wooden planks where firewood was stacked. The potbellied stove stood out in a space where nothing was within 4 feet of it. Once upon a time, there was an workbench in that corner; it moved when an addition was built, and a new very large section of basement was added in the process.

Yes, the basement was spacious, and smelled of so many different things. It was pleasant to play in on those hot summer days, and great to tramp in through the basement door after hours of sledding down the snow covered hills. My clever father had nailed jar lids to slender planks of wood which he then bolted to the ceiling rafters. He stored his bolts, nails, nuts, and various tools in these jars which he could simply unscrew from there hanging place. Easy viewing of what was in them as well. Various pieces of furniture where sent down there–old time desks, china cabinets, card tables, shelves, my beloved “hayride” which was a Town & Country wagon I got for my 3rd birthday and Christmas.

For me, the basement is the second chance place for items that might be useful again. There is storage but there is also every day usage and space there for special tasks or projects if need be. It isn’t a place where company dwells, nor a place for sleeping; I find basements are damp despite the measures we take to dehumidify the space. Rather than being sinister, I always see it’s dark and shadowy areas as a respite from the heat of summer, or a toasty haven near the wood stove in the winter.

Today I felt that my basement in this space needed to be defined. It could be a book later on in life.