We had the occasion to visit a home with a Michigan Basement yesterday. At least that’s what I called it. The GG and I had a difference of opinion. This basement had a concrete floor. The GG thinks that a Michigan Basement has a dirt floor. The definition of a Michigan Basement is probably complicated as so many things are.

What this basement reminded me of was my own childhood basement in our shabby little bungalow on Superior Street in Sault Ste. Siberia. I so wish I had pictures of that basement. Alas, photography was not as simple as clicking a button on an iPhone and why the heck would anyone want to take pictures of a fugly old basement anyway?

Our Superior Street basement did not have a dirt floor. It was a concrete floor. Other than that, it was totally unfinished. I remember the washing musheen and dryer down there and various dusty old shelving units and other crapola. There was a Scary Room that I was afraid to go into. I think it was the room earlier owners kept the coal in. I think there was still some coal hanging around in the Scary Room when my parents bought the house, even though the original coal furnace had been replaced by one of those big old octopussy oil furnaces.

My beautiful tortoiseshell cat Twinkle had kittens somewhere in that basement when I was in about first grade. Four kittens were born. Two of them survived successfully, Spot and Puff. There were two more kittens in the litter. One was what my mom called a “monster”. I didn’t see that kitten. The other was a calico kitten who died with a nosebleed. Not sure what the problem was there. Twinkle had another litter of kittens at the moomincabin and a bunch of us watched them be born but that would be a whole nother story.

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