It was the worst thing to be asked.  We dreaded it.  We argued over it.  But more than anything, my siblings and I feared it.  The basement.  Specifically, being asked to go into the furnace room to get anything out of the freezer after dinner.  In the dark.  

If you didn’t grow up in the midwest, you might need some perspective here.  First, basements are the norm in my native state of Minnesota.  Ours was almost completely finished off with knotty pine paneling and a linoleum floor. At one point, we even had a ping pong table (bought by my sister as a gift to the family) and a small pin ball machine (a family Christmas present from my Dad).  But there were two small rooms that were offshoots to the main basement that didn’t have these luxuries.  One of them was the laundry room (self explanatory) and one was the dreaded furnace room.  

Here’s why it was dreaded:

The furnace room contained this large monstrosity that was, you guessed it, the furnace.  It took up seemingly half the room.  And it made noises that one couldn’t anticipate or decipher. I swear it was alive. It moaned, it spit, it hissed.  These noises seemed to be a warning — enter at your own peril. The furnace room also held a large freezer that contained a hodgepodge of various foods bought on sale or picked from our back yard — apples from the tree my mom had peeled and frozen, some vaguely colored meat to be used at a future date. 

The most important item the freezer contained was the gallon of vanilla ice cream.  It seems rather extravagant, and our household was anything but, however we somehow always managed to have ice cream.  And after dinner the argument began as to who had to go down to the furnace room to get it.  It wasn’t that we were lazy — we were scared.

You see, the worst part of the furnace room was this — there was no light switch at the entrance.  You had to walk into the middle of a pitch black room (with the furnace monster on your right) and search for a long string that was attached to a bulb.  Finding that string in total darkness was like starring in your own horror film – waving your arm frantically, hoping you found the string on the first try.  Then, pull it and let there be light.  Suffice to say, every time I lost the argument and was forced to get something out of the freezer, I felt like Jodie Foster in Silence of the Lambs, flailing for that string in the dark, my hand shaking as it reached, reached, reached … Ah!  Got it.  Pull. Light!   My heart still palpitates as I think about it.

I suspect we all have some childhood version of this kind of fear.  Closets that contain God knows what.  Beds that have “things” underneath.  Our imaginations can run wild with the what ifs.   The fear.  

Acronym for Fear

The great Anne LaMott describes herself as one of the most fearful people on earth: “And the most courageous.  All truth is a paradox.”  (Isn’t she terrific?)  

She shares a number acronyms for fear:

False Evidence Appearing Real;

F**k Everything and Run; 

Forgetting Everything’s All Right;

Frantic Effort to Appear Recovered; (Her favorite) 

Fear Expressed Allows Relief (My favorite).

Living now in Los Angeles, not many homes have a traditional basement.  We have what’s called a California basement.  Which means a 8 x 10 foot postage stamp where we keep paper towels, toilet paper and a washer/dryer — no ice cream.  It also has a furnace.  But there’s a light switch at the top of the stairs — no string.  And I’ve never been afraid to go down those stairs.  I suppose fear of the furnace room has been replaced by Adult Fears.  You know the list — categories that include loss, money, illness.  Some justified, some as irrational as the furnace monster. 

What do we do with these fears? Lamott suggests we share our fears because,  

“Us dealing with our fear makes the world a better place.”  

Perhaps it’s a combination of sharing and facing.  As I grew a little older, I learned to force myself to confront the furnace monster. I started to charge forward into that room with purpose and determination.  While I still had goose bumps, it made the process a bit easier.  Pull the string, get the ice cream, pull the string again and ruuuuuuuun. And each time I did it, I was teaching myself that I was in charge – the darkness wasn’t.

As actress Dorothy Bernard said, 

“Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” 

I like this best of all.

Share that fear.  Say your prayers.  Turn on the light.