The Snowflake Chronicles

Root Celler

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, a root cellar is "a room or large hole in the ground where vegetables (such as potatoes and carrots) are kept". This defines the original purpose, but it does not suggest any other purpose for them. I have never, in my 70 years, encountered a root cellar that was a room in a house. The only root cellars, I have ever entered were those in Oklahoma and they had two purposes. First, the storage of potatoes, carrots, and home canned fruits or vegetables. Second, they protected the family and household pets when a tornado was spotted or forecast in the immediate vicinity.

Sixty-two years ago, on May 25, 1955, a F-5 tornado struck Blackwell, Oklahoma. I was eight years old at the time, and when the warning sirens blasted we went into the root cellar behind my parents' house, where we remained until the all clear sounded. As a results of this tornado which occurred at 21:26 Central Standard Time, and covered an area 28 miles long by 500 yards wide, 20 people were killed and 280 wounded.2 Fortunately, it did not strike the sections of town where I lived. However, it did strike the section where my Aunt Ida, my grandmother's younger sister, and her husband lived. It completely destroyed the sections of town where it did touch down.

What I remember about that experience was being stuck in a root cellar without electricity and indoor plumbing. Even if the root cellar had been wired for electricity it would not have mattered because the power went out that night. In addition, to having no lights we had to pee into the drainage hole in the center of the cellar. I know this might not seem like a big deal to men because they are anatomically construct, despite the fact that they have lousy aims, to pee in a hole. Most women and girls find it uncomfortable to squat over a hole and pee, especially when they know that, despite the fact that it is darker than a black cat on black sofa, everyone is watching them. Then there is the issues of the inhabitants that have more than four legs. I did not mind the six-legged creepy crawlies, but the idea of the ones with eight legs sent chills up my spine.

To this day, I do not like dark places because, deep down in my subconscious mind, I know that there is an eight-legged demon ready to drop on me. It does not matter that none dropped or crawled onto me when I was in the cellar. It does not matter that I have only had maybe one or two spiders actually drop on me, and they wanted to get off me as fast I I wanted them off. I still do not like dark places no matter who is with me.