Growing up on a farm can be lonely. You could sit on the tractor for hours by yourself. I knew the words to every song on every radio station – we only had like two actually – classic rock and classic country. Feeding and taking care of animals alone – you find yourself talking to them. Pigs, cows, dogs, they are all pretty good listeners but they don’t give great advice. It’s a solitary life. One particular place on the farm that was lonely and terrifying was our basement. Now I’m not even really sure you could call it a basement. It was under the house but this wasn’t your typical suburban basement where you entertain with a wet bar and plasma TV. This was a basement from a Steven King novel. There were two ways to get there. First, you could get there from the house by going through a small door just off our living room. From there, you’d pull a string to turn on a light and make your way down some dark and creaky stairs. Or, from the outside of the house, you had to open a “Wizard of Oz” type cellar door that you pull up. That led you down some equally creepy concrete stairs through a crooked wooden door in the house’s foundation. Now the fun is just beginning, once you got in, you were struck by the smell of mildew and you were overwhelmed by darkness – not a quiet and peaceful darkness so much as an unexplained darkness. There were some tiny windows on two walls but for some reason, no light came in. I think the light was scared. The one similarity to typical suburban basements was all the mechanicals like the furnace and water heater and affiliated pipes but they were hidden in the shadows or by the shadows. Behind the furnace was a small room that I never went in. I think it used to hold coal or something but it may also have been the way to Hades. So, you get the picture, not a fun place to have sleepovers or play ping pong. You would think this would be a place that you could avoid if it creeped you out right? You could never go there unless you had your dog or pig with you, you know someone to talk to. Ironically, this basement was where my parents sent me to keep me safe from severe thunderstorms and tornadoes – alone. I wonder if that’s why I hate thunderstorms and tornadoes so much? You think?