Grandma's Basement--And Mine
As I trudged down to the basement the other day, to wash yet another load of laundry, I glanced at the boxes piled high, and the clutter scattered around, and the cobwebs in the windows, and I nearly shuddered with the thought--this is turning into my Grandma's basement!
Not the farmhouse cellar. That dank hole under the house could hardly be called a basement. It was just a one-room cellar, lined with shelves of home-canned beans and peaches and jelly. I suppose the potatoes and onions were kept down there, too. I seem to remember a sloping, outside cellar door, which opened to reveal a steep, treacherous staircase, without any sort of hand rail, and a dirt floor. One tiny, cobweb-covered window let in a small amount of light, just enough to find the right jar of vegetables for supper. I only remember going down into that cellar once or twice, to seek shelter from threatening weather. It wasn't a place where anyone wanted to linger.
Grandpa and Grandma's basement in their new Norfolk house was much better. It consisted of one big "rec room" with little furniture, a finished bedroom and bathroom in one corner, and a semi-enclosed laundry room in another corner. It was a fabulous place for all of the grandchildren to play, and a good place to set up tables for a big family meal. It wasn't fancy, but it served its purpose.
Today, though, I'm thinking of the basement in their acreage house just outside of Norfolk, the house they moved to in 1971. It was a small house, built with great care many years before, by its original owner. The basement was necessarily small, too, and somewhat awkward in arrangement. Someone had added a bedroom in one corner, and a little storeroom in another corner. The main part of the basement contained a washer and dryer, and a makeshift open-air shower in the middle of the room, enclosed by a flimsy shower curtain. And, of course, there were boxes of stuff that someone might need someday, along with a few cluttered shelves and an old table or two, and two or three high, cobwebby windows that let in quite a bit of light. It was the sort of place you might visit briefly to do a load of laundry, or deposit something that needed to be stored somewhere.
All of this preamble brings me back to my current basement. When our house was built in 1964, the partial basement was divided into two long, narrow, wood-paneled rooms with several closets and cupboards and a six foot long, turquoise bar along one wall. Bill and I have always had good intentions of remodeling our basement to include an actual, enclosed storeroom, an updated laundry room, and a media room. Maybe we will, someday. But, in the meantime, our basement has become a too-convenient catchall for everything we no longer use. It's just too easy to drop various items on the bar's counter top. And who wants to clear the cobwebs from the two ceiling-hugging windows, when more exciting activities await upstairs?
I totally understand my grandparents' basement habits. I can say, from personal experience, that I know why it was a rather messy part of the house. And, I am not too surprised to see similar basements in the homes of others in my extended family. I guess we all need a convenient place to deposit our clutter. Who knows? We might need it again someday!
Even so, it's time to add "cleaning the basement" to my to-do list--again. Or, maybe I should say, "clearing out the basement." The mere thought of it makes me wince.
Not the farmhouse cellar. That dank hole under the house could hardly be called a basement. It was just a one-room cellar, lined with shelves of home-canned beans and peaches and jelly. I suppose the potatoes and onions were kept down there, too. I seem to remember a sloping, outside cellar door, which opened to reveal a steep, treacherous staircase, without any sort of hand rail, and a dirt floor. One tiny, cobweb-covered window let in a small amount of light, just enough to find the right jar of vegetables for supper. I only remember going down into that cellar once or twice, to seek shelter from threatening weather. It wasn't a place where anyone wanted to linger.
Grandpa and Grandma's basement in their new Norfolk house was much better. It consisted of one big "rec room" with little furniture, a finished bedroom and bathroom in one corner, and a semi-enclosed laundry room in another corner. It was a fabulous place for all of the grandchildren to play, and a good place to set up tables for a big family meal. It wasn't fancy, but it served its purpose.
Today, though, I'm thinking of the basement in their acreage house just outside of Norfolk, the house they moved to in 1971. It was a small house, built with great care many years before, by its original owner. The basement was necessarily small, too, and somewhat awkward in arrangement. Someone had added a bedroom in one corner, and a little storeroom in another corner. The main part of the basement contained a washer and dryer, and a makeshift open-air shower in the middle of the room, enclosed by a flimsy shower curtain. And, of course, there were boxes of stuff that someone might need someday, along with a few cluttered shelves and an old table or two, and two or three high, cobwebby windows that let in quite a bit of light. It was the sort of place you might visit briefly to do a load of laundry, or deposit something that needed to be stored somewhere.
All of this preamble brings me back to my current basement. When our house was built in 1964, the partial basement was divided into two long, narrow, wood-paneled rooms with several closets and cupboards and a six foot long, turquoise bar along one wall. Bill and I have always had good intentions of remodeling our basement to include an actual, enclosed storeroom, an updated laundry room, and a media room. Maybe we will, someday. But, in the meantime, our basement has become a too-convenient catchall for everything we no longer use. It's just too easy to drop various items on the bar's counter top. And who wants to clear the cobwebs from the two ceiling-hugging windows, when more exciting activities await upstairs?
I totally understand my grandparents' basement habits. I can say, from personal experience, that I know why it was a rather messy part of the house. And, I am not too surprised to see similar basements in the homes of others in my extended family. I guess we all need a convenient place to deposit our clutter. Who knows? We might need it again someday!
Even so, it's time to add "cleaning the basement" to my to-do list--again. Or, maybe I should say, "clearing out the basement." The mere thought of it makes me wince.
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