A few days ago I started talking about my parents’ basement and how much I covet it. Then I went off in a direction I hadn’t originally intended and never made it back.

There are a number of things that makes their basement ideal. It’s mostly underground and dark, but not damp. There is a lot of shelf space and floor space. It’s wired for electricity, so a chest-type freezer is in its ideal element down there. And though not entirely convenient, it’s accessible from inside the house.

Every year Mom would supervise the bottling of beans, applesauce, tomatoes, and any other excess produce from our garden. If any of the local stores held case-lot sales she’d stock up. If we could get a good deal on local fruit she’d buy several bushel and we’d put them up. We’d freeze corn, carrots, peas, and anything else we could get. Every year our food supply downstairs grew by just a little more than what we used until it became pretty much full.

Now and then after we children have moved out with families of our own we would go through some hard times. Mom and Dad’s basement was always open. We could come help ourselves–Mom would insist on it, really. It was always a blessing to have it available.

My parents were both raised on farms. Though they moved to the city not long after they married, they never forgot their country self-reliance. Mom’s grandpa was the “town doctor,” though he had no more than common sense and experience to go on when stitching up people and animals, setting bones, or whatever else needed doing. He once built a set of toy furniture for my mother from an old packing crate. If Mom didn’t remember its origins I’d never have guessed. His carpentry with leftover, low-quality wood is better than mine when I set out with fancier tools and better grade wood.

Now that I’m older I’m beginning to appreciate just how much my parents learned from their parents. I appreciate even more all the things my parents passed on to me. I’m sure there are many skills they took for granted that the forgot to teach me, but what they have taught me is considerable. That wealth of knowledge is irreplaceable, and I have to make sure I pass it along to my children.

Someday my Mom will join Dad on the other side, and chances are the family food storage basement will go away. It will certainly be missed. But the lessons that came from filling that basement will last forever. I’ll be forever grateful for the foundation of self-reliance they built for me.

I happened to be poking around in my blogging dashboard today and noticed that people have been leaving comments on this blog! Somehow in setting it up I forgot to have Blogger notify me when people leave comments. My other blogs are set up this way, and so I am used to not having to look. Well, I’ve been getting comments! I apologize for not responding, though obviously not all comments require response.

I’ve turned on the notifications now, so hopefully I won’t ignore you again.

To quote Maxwell Smart, “Sorry about that, Chief!”

My parents’ home was built in the early twentieth century and included an unfinished half basement. I remember being somewhat frightened of it as a child; the concrete floor and walls, the bare floor joists instead of ceiling, the single bare bulb in the center of the room that required you to walk into the darkness to find the pull chain before you could turn it on. Perhaps even scarier was leaving the room, when you had to turn out the light, turn your back to the big, open, dark room and make your way out again.

Today I would give anything for a basement like that. Newer houses, at least in my state, do not have basements. At least not like that. We have a split level home, with the lower floor partly below ground level, but not a storage basement like my parents had. I never really appreciated all that space they had until I started trying to build up food storage of my own.

We’ve had to get more creative. There is room in the garage, but it’s not the most ideal facility. It gets far too hot in the summer, and is difficult to get around in when we park both cars inside. We converted the closet under the stairs to food storage, but it is cramped, dark, and attracts mice too easily. We have storage under our beds and on top of cupboards. We even put storage cabinets in our master bedroom. And it’s not enough.

A basement would make all of it so much easier. I’ve heard of a company in town that builds basements underneath existing houses. I imagine it’s possible to add a storage basement underneath the ground level of our house. I also imagine it’s fairly expensive. With the current state of the economy it may well be a long time before we see that kind of money again.

So for now I suppose we have little choice but to get creative in finding ways to overcome the lack of storage space in our home’s design. Hmmm… What if we placed our bed up on top of a large cabinet? Weren’t beds you need a stool to climb into all the rage a few years ago?

I went to a business seminar today. While we were waiting to get started we were introducing ourselves around and discussing what we did. One gentleman I was speaking with pressed far enough to find out I am launching a website centered around self-reliance. From the expression on his face I couldn’t quite tell if he had no idea what I was talking about or he merely found the topic about as interesting as he would a doctoral thesis on differentiation in lichens of the American Northwest.

Some people are perhaps fortunate enough to have never been faced with a situation where self-reliance comes in handy. In the training room of a company where I used to work was a poster that said something along the lines of, “A system backup is an activity religiously practiced only by those who have previously experienced a system crash.” However true, the implication is that people don’t appreciate the need for something until they experience a situation in which that something would have helped had they done it.

Those of us who have already seen the benefits of self-reliance tend to view people like that as “whistling past the graveyard,” or perhaps being like children who believe they are invisible if they close their eyes. But then they probably view people like me as paranoid, tin foil beanie-wearing survivalist nut-jobs. I guess it goes both ways.

Just for the record, I did not rush out and buy duct tape and plastic wrap during the anthrax scares after 9/11. I did not buy surgical masks or refuse to go out in public during the various super-flu scares of the last decade. I am not a reactionary. I merely believe in risk management. Having been through three periods of unemployment in the past eleven years, I see the need to mitigate the risk of extended unemployment through financial planning, food storage, and learning to do some of the things I would rather not have to pay someone else for during low-income periods.

So let me just reiterate. This is not a site for conspiracy theorists, apocalyptic harbingers, or survivalist loners. If those people find something of value on this site, great. They’re certainly welcome if they behave themselves, but they’re not my audience. This is a site for people who, whether or not they choose to live a self-reliant lifestyle during good times, want to be prepared for the inevitable hard times and be able to do for themselves as much as possible. It’s for people who see that there are certain risks in life worth preparing against.

It’s for people who have found that certain things work well for them and want to share what they have found with others who might find it useful also. Welcome! Come on in, pull up a chair, and tell us what you’ve found. Or feel free to pull up a chair and just listen. That’s fine, too.