While many of you had childhood fears of clowns or mascots, or perhaps dogs or bugs, mine was the scary basement in our house. As a child I refused to go down there alone, only with a parent or my younger brother. Most of my nightmares involved scary things in that basement. By the time I hit my tweens I could go down there alone in the daytime, but always had a creepy feeling when I would head back up the stairs to the main floor of the house. Now, this wasn’t an old basement, it had at least five small casement windows and was finished.
By the time I became a teenager, two things happened. Dad built a proper rec room in the basement, and our only tv was moved down there. In addition my grandmother came to live with us and took over my brother’s room, so it looked like my brother and I had to share a bedroom with bunk beds. I was given a choice – I could share a bedroom with my brother or Dad would build a bedroom off the rec room in the basement. Well, as a teenager I was more than willing to overcome my fears and have a brand new bedroom to myself.
I developed a set of “scary basement rules” to cope. I was always safe going down the stairs to the basement, but on reaching the bottom must immediately turn on the light in the rec room to get to the bedroom. Another rule was based on “out of sight, out of mind”. So I would close my eyes when I went to bed and keep the covers covering all of me. If they couldn’t see your arm, leg or head they weren’t allowed to “get” you. Pretending you were asleep was the ultimate rule. But the hardest rule was when leaving the basement and heading back up the stairs. YOU COULD NOT TURN AROUND AND LOOK INTO THE REST OF THE DARKENED BASEMENT! I would get a tingle at the back of my neck and down my back and the hairs on the back of my skull and arms would stand on end.
Eventually, like most childhood fears, they go away and you forget about them. Until last month when I was helping Mom clear out some of my late father’s tools from his workshop in the basement. As I was carrying a box up the stairs I felt that old tingle, the hairs stood up, and the thought that I MUST NOT TURN AROUND popped into my head. But this time I did turn around. And then confused my mother by laughing to myself all the way out to the car.
