• Columnists

I’m taking a sentimental journey to the basement

• col-dave-mast
• November 2, 2023
• 646

What secrets lie at the bottom of the ocean?

What treasures are buried deep underground?

Hidden gems — whether they be priceless works of art, chests full of gold doubloons, ancient artifacts or all the way down to those lesser sought family heirlooms, a rare piece of Millersburg Glass, an old 1878 silver dollar or a Roberto Clemente Topps rookie card and many more items — could be somewhere out there, waiting to be discovered.

I was recently at my parents’ house, helping them move some furniture, and afterward we went downstairs and snooped around the basement, where, along with the attic, many memories are vanquished to reside for years, decades and even centuries.

What we found down in the rarely visited tomb that is our basement were a host of old items, from some of my dad’s old Hiland High School jackets (he was the boys basketball coach) to family artwork, old games, aging tools and stacks of things that are valueless, but not for the people who have them as memories.

It got me to thinking.

How many families have this exact same scenario lurking in their basement and up in their attic, where mounds of magazines, boxes of baubles and tons of old toys reside?

I believe almost every family has something akin to this, whether it is one of the above places or in a storage shed, desk or simply a room in the house.

It’s amazing how important some of these insignificant things can be in our lives. In some sort of weird way, certain possessions come into our lives that aren’t worth much in dollar value, but in terms of sentimental value, they hold deep meaning.

Some of it might be our favorite game or a stuffed animal we want to pass along to a grandchild someday. In my and my wife’s case, it is a seemingly boundless gathering of plastic containers that are stuffed to overflowing with old artwork our three sons created in second grade, or some medal they earned as part of a team in youth baseball, or some trinket that has attached itself to our hearts that we can’t seem to let go of.

My mom is the same way, and I don’t think we’re alone in our thought process that someday, Lord willing, our children and grandchildren will look at these trinkets and drawings with the same awe in which we see them.

Another thing that made me think about this concept was a photo on my desktop at work.

I have a picture of a pair of the old cast iron steps that once proudly ascended up the outside of the Millersburg Opera House.

These steps in terms of significant value are worthless. They are rusty and have been in a shed in my stepfather Cliff Kandel’s house for decades.

In practical terms the steps are useless.

In sentimental terms they could be quite valuable, part of a beloved old opera house that has been torn down for three-quarters of a century. They are part of our history, a piece of our past that many often long for.

“The good old days.”

How often we hear those words, where us old-timers spout “When I was a kid … ”

Those memories and things we attach to them are what drives us to stockpile shelves full of things anyone else would throw away in a heartbeat.

That’s why those old stairs still have some meaning, because they are a part of our past.

I once found an 1893 Indian head penny at my grandma’s house in Sugarcreek. We were shooting hoops outside, the ball rolled into the grass, I reached down for the ball and there it was, peeking out through the blades of grass.

I still have it, and it’s worth about as much as its face value, but to me, it’s something far cooler.

Thus people stockpile old things, and there they stay, unseen to the world, resting peacefully for decades, waiting to be explored, brought out, dusted off, shined up and displayed once again.

What great finds are still lurking in old homes and barns in our area?

Is there a one-of-a-kind collection of Millersburg Glass tucked away behind great-grandma’s mattresses and old canning jars in the attic?

Is there a Mickey Mantle rookie card slid between two old floorboards in your neighbor’s basement?

Is there a priceless Manet painting covered up by some ridiculous dogs playing poker painting lurking at some flea market or garage sale?

You never know when you might stumble upon something of true value.

But then again, the most worthless items can possess true value to someone when it comes to the sentimental value of the heart.