I resisted the temptation to climb out onto the carport roof. I descended the stairs…one last time. As I headed for the basement, I remembered mom making dad’s lunches , putting them on the steps to the landing and how dad would grab his lunch as he was leaving and say “Ralph!” For you younger generation, Grandpa had morphed “We’re off” over the years to one word “Ralph”. I headed into the basement remembering the strings that used to assure that we wouldn’t fall into the sump pump that were later replaced with paneling. I walked into the laundry room remembering the tornado of July 4, 1969 when I had taken Pub by the chain with a pillow and was crouched over by the concrete laundry tub. That’s what they taught us in school, remember? Find the south east corner of the lowest level and “assume the position”. I was over there crying, everyone else had come down to the basement, except for Lou who went outside. I think dad’s words were “Oh, for crying out loud!”
I then went into the paneled part of the basement in what used to be Thom’s bedroom. I remembered the bamboo curtains that separated his “room” from the rest of the basement. I remember his animal print corduroy bedspread. I remember jumping on him to wake him up for school. Sorry I was such a pain of a little sister…
Then I went into the workbench area and around again to the laundry room. Didn’t that used to be closed with a door on it? I seem to remember having a club house in there. I noticed that the paneling now covers the “trap door” where after a bird came flying out of there was forever after the sound that would make Pub come running. I climbed those basement stairs. Through my tears I locked the back door and said goodbye to the house of 51 years of memories…. for the last time.
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I went looking for Lou in the '69 tornado, found him in the carport, where we both witnessed the Jones' above-ground swimming pool being emptied of water, and the Maple tree beginning to twist; it's roots tearing could be heard over the storm.
We had noticed the strange color in the sky in the front yard, and I was the first to see the twister from Marie's room.
The room under the stairs was originally closed to the workbench, with a door to the laundry. The metal door in the chimney was only for clean out with coal burning stoves, so it was OK to cover it up.
I am not sure if I was trying to experience my own version of The Wizard of Oz, or if I was destined to be a weather man, or ... probably just stupid. Man we were crazy! I also remember the "under stairs" being closed off on the workbench end. Mom used to keep all her canning stuff in there on that east wall. Then later, I made it into a darkroom where Jim Ferns and I used to make contact prints from black and white negatives, some of which were Dad's large format ones. Dad added a neat feature of a small funnel in the corner of the main counter. It had a hose that dumped it into the sump pump. That's where all my developing chemicals went when I discarded them. Also, all the walls and counter tops were spray painted flat black to keep light from reflecting, again Dad's idea. For all I know, he probably used flat black Rustoleum! I am not sure when the east wall got cut out to make it a walk-through room.
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