By AMY SHANKLAND
Sandwiched
As we sat in our basement last Sunday morning around 3:30 a.m. thanks to tornado warnings, I couldn’t help remembering another basement from long ago. My current one is more like a cellar with its brick and dirt floor. It’s just storage space in our more than 120-year-old home.
Our basement growing up in Mishawaka was so much more. Mom and Dad remodeled it in the late 70s, splitting it into a laundry/furnace/storage room on one side, and entertainment space on the other. The latter had wood paneling that remained for decades along with carpet, a bar, a pool table, Dad’s poker table, and a small sitting area that housed our 19-inch TV.
As a child and teenager, I thought it was the best space ever.
Mom turned the laundry area into her own ceramics studio. She stored pieces on shelves there, had her own kiln, and taught lessons on two rickety tables for years. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings were filled with women painting, laughing, and gabbing.
Thursday evenings were poker night. When it was time for Dad to host, he was always rather embarrassed (but secretly happy) when his daughter traipsed down to kiss him goodnight. Goodnight kisses were standard in our household and a room full of men wasn’t stopping me.
I also hosted friends on that side of the basement for games, movies, and birthday sleepovers. Even though we had carpet, it was more like indoor/outdoor stuff. How on earth we slept on that floor in just sleeping bags baffles me today.
Mom and Dad often joined me and my friends for card and board games at the poker table, which I always thought was wonderful. I was never embarrassed that my parents hung out with us. In fact, my dear friend Kevin shared with me a few years ago at his mother’s viewing how much those times meant to him.
“Your mom was so welcoming,” he shared. “It was my home away from home.”
When my siblings and I had to sell the house in 2017, I remember taking one last look at every single room inside of it. Of course, my old bedroom held many memories of my girlfriends spending the night, reading, and doing homework.
But it was that final tour of the basement that made my heart heavy. I have so many memories of family and friends gathering for fun. Sometimes we’d put our ping-pong table leaves over the pool table and gather around it to eat for holidays. I have a few pictures of us doing that very thing.
My brother took on the task of getting the basement remodeled and he did a great job. I never saw the final result in person, but seeing pictures made me teary-eyed. I never realized how much I would miss that 70s wood paneling and every other object that was the background for so many good times.
It just proves that you don’t need anything fancy growing up – just love, laughter, and togetherness.