Broken down, haunted and loved [video commentary]

Last summer, I moved into an apartment that took up the entire main floor of what used to be a very large Queen Ann style Victorian house. It's the most amazing apartment I've ever had, with huge windows, stained glass, intricate details in the wood work and door knobs and extremely high ceilings. Best of all, the walls aren't painted a simple boring white like most apartments; instead, they're a bright happy yellow.

Despite being slightly more expensive and further away from campus, I chose this apartment over the others for its beauty and comfort. I had become attached the moment I stepped foot into the vacant living room, and I simply couldn't turn it down.

I have never lived in a really old house before, but I learned quite quickly old houses have a personality of their own. For example, what I didn't know before living here, is that any doors that open to the west will never stay shut because the house is crooked. It's sliding off the foundation so much that even the windows are crooked, which I only noticed after hanging up my curtains.

I didn't care, though. This apartment had charm, and I was enamored.

But the house's bad condition couldn't be ignored once the crickets started creeping in from the break with the porch, once the winter winds began to blow and we could feel the subzero breezes in all rooms of the apartment, or once the small stained glass borders around the big windows began to shatter.

It seemed odd to me that a house which must have been absolutely amazing back in its day was being left to fall apart. I mean, what happened to the family who lived here? There are so many other historic houses in the neighborhood, yet this house is in the worst shape of them all. Why is that?

Since I only plan on living in the apartment for one more year before leaving Kearney behind, I didn't give much thought to the state of the house at first, but as I grew to love it more and more, I grew concerned.

That concern lead me to begin researching the history of the house, as well as the people who lived in it. What I've been able to find so far is that Dr. Cornelius Van Dyke Basten and his wife, Adah, lived here with an adopted daughter. They were active upper class citizens in the very early days of Kearney, living in this house from 1889 to their deaths in 1935. Adah died of heart problems, and Cornelius died of cancer only one month later.

I have to wonder, did one or both of them die in this house? Did they actually take their last breath in one of these rooms? I don't know why, but thoughts like these can consume me.

Adding to that history is an alleged ghost who haunts the attic and part of the second floor. A girl who lived in the apartment grew curious about a mysterious door that would not open, and after somehow forcing it aside, she and another person discovered that the door led to an attic filled with antiques, including a sink full of dishes, late-1800s style dresses and a delicate but decaying chair. The attic was also encircled with old police tape, or so they say.

The girl swears she was haunted every day after that, and she moved out not long afterward. Another girl moved into the apartment and left shortly afterward as well. Now, the apartment remains vacant.

So after a year of living in this historic and troubled house, I've begun to reexamine the passion I have for this place. I mean, what's there to love about a broken down haunted house? What's there to love about a broken down haunted anything?

Well, it might be hard to believe, but I still wouldn't trade this apartment for the world. After learning of the history and imaging the lives of the people who lived here, I fall in love all over again. This place is older than any human on the planet. This place has a story to tell.

I was never able to find any information about what happened to the house after Cornelius and Adah died, and my searches for their adopted daughter and her family ties all came to dead ends. As for any terrible occurrences warranting ghostly activity, I have no idea if something happened here or not.

Will anyone ever step in to fix this place up like it deserves? Once again, I don't know. Just as much of this house remains a mystery, so does its future.