… to continue …
There was a certain level of ESP or telepathy that I witnessed between my Mom and my sister. I observed this tender, and at times poignant connection, my entire life. They knew what the other was feeling… and thinking. They finished each other’s sentences. They communicated with their eyes. This ESP was a firm given in our family dynamic. It was comfortable. I didn’t realize that not everyone had that sort of communication somewhere in their lineage. It’s a nice thing really. Wish I had paid closer attention. Wish I could have figured out how it worked. But there is more…
As far as other single incidents of the unexplainable go ... and I am not thinking of all of them at the moment … I have a couple of
favorites. They both occurred at the
corner of Wayne Street and Columbus Avenue in Corry, PA in a home where I lived
from age 8 to age 20. (It was in a house across the road from a home that was a
part of the Underground Railroad… our section of the county having been a bit
of an Abolitionist hot bed thanks to the good people of Beaver Dam, PA. A slight digression here… runaway slaves are
thought to have moved along what was called the Beaver Dam/Columbus Turnpike
(currently Turnpike Road) and on toward Canada and freedom. I discovered this
important tidbit of information when researching the small parcel of land that
I own in Wayne Twp. PA (more on that later). Anyway -- we came home from church one Sunday
morning to our locked home only to find that someone/something had been sitting on the couch in
the living room – reading the Sunday newspaper. It was spread out all over the place. Now we know this was an intruder of some sort because my Mom would never
have allowed anyone to read a newspaper while sitting on that couch. Back in those days, newspaper ink smeared off
on everything. You could smell the ink
and you needed to wash your hands after even a glance at the “funny papers”
section.
The second incident that comes to mind at this location
was the case of the missing a sewing project.
The material, pinned to the pattern, cut and ready to sew, disappeared
and then reappeared several years later.
I found it wrapped in an old towel in a built-in drawer in the attic of that
home. Very weird.
Hmm – then moving to relatively current times…. These at home episodes call to mind the framed print
of Santa Claus that has been missing now for over 15 years in the home where I
currently live. I wonder where and when that will
be found? Hope it is soon. I miss it. It belongs on the mantle in the living room
during the holiday time, or perhaps on my Mom’s easel for Christmas Eve celebrations. Every year now for the past few years,
I have offered an ever-increasing reward and mounted an in-home search – to no avail... even
though I have to say that my grandkids who live nearby are outstanding snoops -- definitely of the highest
caliber. I have trained them well. I sometimes call them when I can't find something, and they usually know where it is. I love that about them. Anyway -- I have no doubt that Santa will miraculously show up when I least expect
it.
I sometimes wonder if the same mischievous presence that I
recall from my days as a young child, then in the Wayne Street house and on to where
I am now has moved with me from place to place all throughout my life. To continue and to backtrack a bit – It
occurred to me when I was a freshman in college that this Wayne Street house “presence”
had gone to Allegheny College (Meadville, PA) with me Freshman year. By then I had named it JJ, and was totally
comfortable with it hanging around. My
roommate? Not so much. She left after freshman year. She said it was because she didn’t get into
the sorority she wanted, but I always thought that JJ might have had something
to do with her departure. She was
particularly annoyed, perhaps freaked out is a more apt expression, when, for one thing, the
window blinds would go up and down slowly -- by themselves. When you are used to something, you tend to
forget that certain things bother other people.
I honestly don’t recall much activity when I was finishing my undergraduate
studies at Skidmore College, but then again, I seriously think most of the town
of Saratoga Springs, NY is haunted in some way… lots of historical activity
there, including perhaps lingering "memories" of the bloody battle that insured the American victory over the
British in the Revolutionary War in 1777. Yep – that Saratoga. I could even feel "it" when walking down the sidewalks in the center of the town. Not creepy -- just sort of an atmosphere of something hanging around like an invisible light mist... sort of there, but nothing you could really put your finger on.
No comments:
Post a Comment