When we moved into our house we had this big, luxurious storage room on one side of the basement. It was awesome. We moved a lot of stuff in there and were happy to have the space that our former home did not.
Over time, our youngest son decided he wanted to pull a “Greg Brady.” Now, I’m getting to the age where many people who read my column can’t relate, so I feel like I need to explain a little here.
Greg Brady was the oldest son on “The Brady Bunch.” Actually, if you’ve never watched this show, I want little to do with you. If you’ve never heard of them, please don’t even bother to read on. Put the paper down and never speak of my column again.
Greg got tired of sharing a little bedroom with his two younger brothers. Therefore, he moved up to the third floor attic, a very clean space that required very little work to become an inhabitable space.
Now, I’ve always had issues with the Bradys anyway. Dad was an architect. Surely he could have afforded to build at least another couple of bedrooms in that sprawling house. Plus, if that house had such a gigantic space in the “attic,” why wasn’t there some junk and some boxes up there?
I guess the dynamics of a TV script called for the kids to share a room. I’m too much of a realist also, I suppose. But I digress.
In any case, there was a whole episode centered around Greg and Marcia (now SURELY you’ve heard of her) sparring over the bedroom in the attic. Good television, I tell you. And all of us saw that episode a billion times.
So my younger son pulled a Greg Brady and decided he’d like to move into the storage room. So, we put a small amount of flooring down, hung a curtain up to separate the rest of the storage room from his new digs, and slapped some paint on the walls of his little corner. It was a cozy space.
Gradually, my son decided to spread out a bit, and after some maneuvering and purging of the storage room, had taken over about three-fourths of the space.
When little sister came along, both boys were relegated to the basement and eventually even the room used for a “toy room” was taken over for a bedroom.
Now, the storage area has been renovated and fancy things like drywall, paint, real lights and light switches (instead of lightbulbs and pull chains) have been added along with carpeting and closets. It’s a real bedroom now.
But I’ve always enjoyed being in unfinished basement spaces where you could have a little fun, roller skate on the concrete and string up Christmas lights for effect. There’s something about having some space to just bum around in or get a little messy with a project.
Furthermore, there’s something to be said for storage space. Sure, not having it helps one to prioritize and not hang onto stuff, but it’s still fun to have a storage space where one can rummage through some cobwebs and dust to see an old treasure or forgotten item. Remember when you’d find an old toy you hadn’t played with in a while? Or an old photo, note, or card?
There’s something to be said for a space to store memories.
Still, I also think it’s neat when a kids discovers extra space in the house and decides to make it his own.
And even though the storage room is now a real, renovated bedroom, it was still fun to fashion that little cozy nook in the corner of that dark old space of concrete and bare rafters.