About the Weather

Yesterday my dog Happy created a mess in the family room downstairs.  Normally she'll laze around half the day without worry, but not this time.  Someone had left a glass of orange pop on the coffee table and with the simple wag of her tail, ker-plunk. 
 
As I was cleaning the space along the raised flooring I noticed a few tiles had buckled from the moisture.  The more I scrubbed, the looser they became.  I finally surrendered and pulled them off entirely.  My idea was to make a trip to the hardware store for some tile adhesive to fix the flooring once and for all.
 
The thing is, I discovered a hinge.  A hinge.  The corroded metal had been tucked beneath the tile all along.  Curiosity got the better of me as I proceeded to remove both good and bad flooring to figure out the "why" a hinge was there.  Soon the purpose became obvious.
 
What on earth?  A door.  I couldn't help but think that sometimes most everything happens for a reason.  Mischief, malice and Happy for without, I would have never known...
 
The more I worked, the larger the door became. 
 
Who would place a doorway along the floor of our basement?  Where could it possibly lead?  Was this an entrance to a cold war bomb shelter or was it an ingenious hiding spot for valuables?  The possibilities were endless.
 
The people who owned the home before us, the Sullivan's, were the only residents prior to our moving in.  My guess, the doorway was constructed at the same time the house was built.  I didn't recall anything of the sort on the original blueprints.  So, what did this mean? 
 
We lived in a non-descript 1950's ranch style dwelling at the middle of the block just outside of the city.  There was nothing remarkable about the structure or any homes in our neighborhood for that matter.  Most were a carbon copy of the next except this one apparently had a secret doorway below.
 
After two hours the marble pattern had been removed.  The plank didn't lift, but then again, I didn't give it my all.  I needed a crowbar...did we have one?   
 
I wondered if I should wait for my son to return home from school, I mean what if there was tunnel or something...I could disappear and no one would ever know what happened.  What if it turned out to be the mouth of the home and once inside, the jaw would simply close.  I'd then remain trapped on the other side as an observer to the life of my family from then on.  Mom who? 
 
It suddenly occurred to me, there was never any mention on what had happened to the former owner.  Was Mr. Sullivan down there somehow?  Did he find the doorway and follow it to the great expanse of the unknown?
 
Part of me leaned towards opening the door right then and there...the other, the more cautious side was telling me to think carefully on this.
 
I did my best for the next few hours to keep busy.  I cleaned my kitchen...a most dreaded task, thankless and continuous...scrub this, put away that, unload the dishwasher...toss old food from the week before.  Gunk, goo, mess, crumbs...over and over and over again, day in and day out with no escape...but then I thought of the doorway...maybe I was wrong on that count...maybe there was an escape after all.  What if that doorway was meant for me and me alone? 
 
To calm my nerves I moved on to the front room.  The vacuum carried a most annoying high pitched sound.  The motor was a referee whistle, a stereo set without bass, clatter-clank and a cat wail all in one.  I needed to find a better vacuum someday but to spare my mom's feelings, the unit became part of our family.  I'll always remember how proud my mom was when she arrived with the gift in hand.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that her bargain was not so much of a deal after all.  So I used the beast sparingly...only when an old fashioned broom and dust pan would not do the trick.
 
No matter what I aimed to accomplish, my mind swung back to the curiosity tucked in the flooring at the far corner of our basement.  Knock, knock, who's there?  Imagine.  Imagine who?  I imagine the truth just below the surface as it always was. 
 
What if all of our homes in the neighborhood were connected or led to an underground city?  My mind raced on with countless possibilities.  Once it was opened though, everything would become apparent.  I could then put my mind to rest.  On the other hand, I would no longer have the means to consider.  It was then I decided it was not in my best interest to share my discovery with anyone just yet.  I needed time to figure out what to do and who to tell, if anyone.
 
With only twenty minutes until my son would return home from school, I took some wood glue (the only adhesive I had on hand) and worked to fix the tiles in a hurried fashion.  I squeezed the tube and paste splattered everywhere.  There was no time to be careful.  Stick, stuck, sticky.  I worked those tiles in a hurried fashion, placing each piece as if I were in a great puzzle competition...except with flooring.  I could feel cool bursts of air from the surrounding edges of the hatch.  I had shivers go up and down my spine as I believed my house to be gasping.
 
When my son arrived home I told him to stay out of the family room since the dog had a mishap with a glass of orange pop and the floor was drying.  After a frustrated groan, he hurried off to his room to complete his homework for the day.
 
After returning to the basement, I placed my ear to the floor to see if I could hear anything from below.  Aside from my own stomach growling, I heard nothing what-so-ever.    
 
At ten o'clock with Jimmy in bed for the day and since Brian was out of town for the week, I returned to the family room floor.  I took a putty knife and pulled everything up once again.  There was no way to grip the door so I took hold of a large screw driver and wedged it into the side.  I stepped on the handle and the large planking moved up.  A few spiders made their way from the crevice and I suddenly didn't feel so sure of my discovery.  I hated spiders.  Did I say I hated spiders?  Well, that was an understatement.  If there was a million dollars tucked away and an army of spiders were layered for protection, I would leave the money behind.  Yes, that is the full scope of my dislike for spiders.
 
Be strong...spiders or not, you need to know what's down there.
 
A moment later I lifted the door as far as it would go.  Of course there were more creepy-crawlies and a web layered as a second barrier.  The thickness was so dense that I could see nothing through the spinning and dirt.  My eyes began to water from the dampness and mildew.  The stench was awful.  I was reminded of my old Aunt Clara's basement in the months after it flooded many years ago.  Even with fans running for countless days the pungency lingered on.
 
At first I thought maybe I should simply replace the door and give up.  Allergies.  I felt a sinus headache forming that was the mother of all headaches.
 
You can't turn back now.
 
I grabbed the shop vac from the garage and proceeded to clear the doorway below.  In a snap the dark expanse became obvious.  A few nasty spiders became casualties of suction.  I couldn't see much so I went on a hunt for a working flashlight.  Why was it there was never one around when I needed it most?  I located a pink crank up light with Teddy Bear Sal on the front.  She only had one eye for the pattern had been worn away.  I began to crank the lever so as to power the beam up.  It was a habit to count the rotations.  One, two, three.....forty nine, fifty...  I clicked the power button and the light led the way.
 
The cutout below our home was not very deep.  Four foot at most.  It appeared to be a place to store things.  Maybe it was used to keep supplies in case of an emergency.  What a disappointment.  As I was ready to close the door, I caught sight of a small square.  It was no larger than a shoe box.  I hated the thought of stepping down into the pit, so I grabbed a shovel from the garage and worked to lift the thing accordingly.
 
The box was metal and painted an army green.  It appeared to be weather tight and very, very durable.  There was lettering on top written in German and the year 1943 was apparent. 
 
There were emblems with more words that I didn't understand.  An umbrella, the sun, snowflakes, wind, clouds...curious.
 
I unlatched the top and peered inside.  There were many wires twisted and tangled that all connected to a half disintegrated control panel.  The rubber buttons had flaked with age.  At first I believed my find was worthless junk but then, upon further scrutiny I realized it was a relic from WWII. 
 
I left the thing on the family room floor.  I closed the door and replaced the tiles using wood glue once again. 
 
After Jimmy went to school the following morning, I carried the box to the kitchen table upstairs.  When the morning sun fell onto the box, the thing powered on.  A slight hum became apparent and I suddenly felt concern as to what I had unleashed before me.  Nothing good would come from this...which probably explained why it was hidden below my house for many years...in the dark, far and away...untouched and forgotten.
 
I felt like crying.  What did I do? 
 
I began clicking buttons in hope that I would figure out how to power the thing off.  The rubber began to dissolve so I decided to be a bit more careful.  What I didn't notice at first was that with each click, the weather outside took on a sudden change.  Overcast, snow flakes, clear, rain, wind...it was all right before me coinciding with the dial.
 
I sat there a moment stupefied.  Weather control?  Impossible.  There was no controlling the weather, there was no controlling much where nature was concerned...and yet, as I clicked away, it all registered as true.
 
I wasn't exactly sure what to do with my find.  The responsible thing would be to phone the authorities.  I doubted technology from the 1940's was exactly safe for home use.  I questioned how such a thing was even possible?
 
What to do, what to do, what to do?
 
Just then the doorbell rang.  I gazed at the clock above.  "Who could it be at such an early hour?"
 
I think I answered the door...but as I opened my eyes, I wasn't sure.  I noticed how the kitchen ceramics could use a good scrubbing.  From my position on the floor, every crumb and crack became noticeable.  Happy towered above me, licking my face.  Did I pass out?  Everything seemed clouded with a haze.  Slowly-carefully with deep breaths, I crawled towards the kitchen table.  With one hand in front of the other I lifted myself into the chair.  Something was missing, something important...but what that something was, I had no recollection.
 
It was now lunch time and I began to consider what would be quick and simple.  Tuna salad, a cheese sandwich?  I felt weak as if someone had drained all of my energy away.  Was I coming down with the flu?
 
With great care I stood from the chair, moved to the sink to use the wash cloth to sanitize the table.  For some odd reason there were tiny bits of black scattered on the surface.  "That darned Jimmy..." I said to myself.
 
Yes, it was just another day without much to talk about, except of course, the weather.