The crawl space of childhood’s basement offered an obvious place for our secret club. We climbed red-bench invitation to reach spool knob and swing open a wide (but very short) plywood door; then clambered up, one-by-one, into our hide-out. Sliding over corrugated cardboard flooring, the first brave soul would pull the string to a single lightbulb. Neighborhood kids formed collaborative huddle amid boxes of empty canning jars and old books. Dark, cobwebbed corners added aura of mystery (not to mention arachnid fear) to our clandestine meetings. With conspiratorial whispers, we’d conduct official club business and ritual passing of candy before breaking out the “Peanuts” board game. Hanging out with Charlie Brown’s gang, we rolled the dice, collected comic character tiles, and took our turns in the “Booby Hatch”.
childhood memories
password protected clubhouse
friendship’s secret code
a poem in my pocket 
Jan 13, 2017 @ 16:49:55
I love the secrecy and hideouts from adults to play games and just chat ~ This brought me back to my childhood playing days ~ For us it would be the basement room filled with forgotten stuff by my grandfather, ha..ha…
Jan 12, 2017 @ 21:29:47
I remember once living in a house with a basement like that. The furnace was down there and it was very difficult getting in to change the filter. But that was years ago. I can see how it would be a nice place for a club house.
Jan 12, 2017 @ 21:38:40
Yes, kids make the most of small, out-of-the-way spaces 😀
Jan 12, 2017 @ 13:37:29
Love the secrecy of children… there is a need for that only partly forbidden.. I always dreamt about such secret places
Jan 12, 2017 @ 14:10:55
It sparked imagination and cemented friendship.