"I know," I said. "We're going to turn around and go back. We're having a little adventure first."
With Paul in the back carrier attached to one of my bikes, we pulled up at the ruins of an old railroad building just south of Church Street.
My wife was working long hours this week, and my daughter hadn't been available today. This left me with three-year-old Paul Matthew all day, and lots of quality time. Depending on what day it is, or sometimes my location, I'm a librarian, writer, historian, paranormal investigator, museum curator, or urban explorer. Paul thinks this is all perfectly normal.
On our way to the radio station that morning, we'd passed the remains of the old railroad shop, and I'd noticed that some of the railroad employees were doing some work on the spot. So on our way to the park, we were doing a little exploring together.
"We're going to look for some treasures, Paul," I said as I unbuckled him. "This is a really old place. This was for trains, a hundred years ago."
"Wow, Daddy," said Paul.
We walked together into the grass and along the railroad tracks. It was sort of like Indiana Jones, if he'd lived in Pennsylvania and had a son who wasn't Shia Lebouf. I found where they'd pulled up two metal girders and a huge concrete pillar, and knelt down beside them. We looked them over.
"Look at these big things," I said. "These were part of the building. No way we're getting these out of here; I'm amazed they were able to dig them out."
"Yeah," said Paul.
"This one used to be right over there."
"Right over dere."
"Let's look around."
We walked together along the tracks. The workers had, during the process, dug out several bricks and left them. Old ones, with the stamp of the Lock Haven Brick and Tile Company on them. Not just cast-off crap---Historic artifacts.
"Here, Paul," I said. "Treasure!"
"Here one! And here one!"
In less than a minute, we had a small pile of similar bricks. I picked up the best-looking one.
"We're not getting all of these out of here on the bike," I said. "We're going to take this one, and hide the rest under that tree."
"Okay."
I piled the extra bricks under a pine tree and placed the nicest one in the carrier. I said,"Okay, Paul. You're gonna ride with it. You guard our treasure we found."
"Okay," said Paul. "We go to da park now?"
"Yes," I said. "Let's go to the park."
Work is usually the Ross Library, though it's not really a job that you'd have an easy time describing on a resume. There just isn't a word for historian-writer-paranormal investigator-curator, and mostly I've given up trying to describe it. People know where to find me when they need me.
"Got any Thanksgiving plans?" I asked my co-worker Tracey in the back room.
"Probably mom and I will visit my sister. How about you?"
"We're taking Paul out to Dad's farm," I said. "We're having a dinner out there. He'll get to see his cousins, It's been a while."
"That sounds fun," she said. "Have you got something to investigate yet in case you need to get out of the house?"
"How did you know that?"
"You always do."
"Yeah, Dad's place has a lot of stuff. There's probably some ghosts, and Bigfoot's been sighted out there recently. There have been UFO sightings---Not too far off, people have seen some unexplained flashing lights in the sky. And there's some old Native American stuff to look into out there. I got plenty of stuff to do."
"Well, have fun with your aliens."
"I always do."
I grew up on Green Valley Farm, just outside of Slatington, Pennsylvania. It's a Christmas tree farm in a deep valley; my father bought the place decades ago. Since my mother died, by younger brother had moved back home, and was largely running the place these days. He'd added chickens and rabbits, various berries, and all sorts of stuff, turning the place into a profitable tourist farm.
It was on the property that I'd first gotten interested in paranormal investigation. I'd spent hours outside hunting for lost temples. When I was six, I'd formed my cousins into a group we called the Ghost Gang, and investigated our houses, which was about all we had access to at the time. Around age eleven, I'd built a water monster trap out of cans and wire, and promptly lost it in the pond---It's probably still down there somewhere. At one point, in an effort to keep me from sneaking out at night, my father had invented a story of a green furry biped he called the Great Christmas Tree Goblin, thus insuring I would repeatedly sneak out and look for it.
Some things never change.
"No. Ten hours," said Paul. Paul doesn't know how to tell time.
"So what makes you think your Dad's farm is some sort of Indian territory?" my wife asked me.
"Well, there have been all sorts of arrowheads found," I said. "Few years ago, when my brother built a new barn, he dug up a ton of them. And then there's the Harp Tree. Did I tell you about the Harp Tree?"
"Isn't that where you and your brothers saw this tree in the woods....?"
"It was near the stream, sort of shaped like a harp, with one branch leaning way out and other branches coming up from that, like strings. It's a little hard to describe. I think the tree is mostly gone now, but I've learned some stuff. Some of the tribes used to use bent trees to mark special places, cities and meeting places. I think the Harp Tree was one of those."
"And you're sure there were Indians around there?"
"Some of it's documented. There was supposed to be some sort of stopping point in the Lehigh Valley somewhere, a place known as Pochapuchkug---"
"Known as what?!?"
"It was kind of English-ized to sound like 'Pohopoco'. It's a spring in a valley, not near any of the main trails. There's documentation of one guy being taken to the place, around 1737, but not a whole lot else. I know it existed, but nobody's sure where."
Michelle nodded. She wasn't paying attention; I was lucky to have avoided the Look for this long. "When we get to your father's place, can you bring in my luggage? I can carry something of yours."
"I can get my pack."
"I can carry your pack, Daddy," volunteered Paul from the backseat.
"Okay, Little Man," I said. "But be careful of the hidden knives and the exploding gas balls."
"Why did you bring that stuff?" my wife asked.
"My cousin may show up."
"Your child might get into it. It's not like you're really going to have to bomb Bigfoot."
"Or a UFO. There have been UFOs."
"Just another minute, Paul," said Michelle.
"Fifteen hours," said Paul.
"You want to go for a walk with me and Paul, Uncle Lou?" my niece Bonnie asked. "We can go explore the woods someplace where I never went before."
I nodded. "Get your coat." I'd been looking for an excuse.
Everyone was preparing dinner, and the kids were running around the house. Brothers David and Jon and sister Jen were there, with their families. Bonnie is Paul's favorite cousin. He adores her.
I got my coat, and pulled it on over my shirt showing Bigfoot being abducted by a UFO. The coat was my most versatile one, a light green thing with lots of pockets, with an inner liner that could be removed to make the coat a light windbreaker. The liner itself could be independently worn as a fleece jacket. It was the coat I most often traveled with in the winter because of the versatility.
We left the farmhouse and walked east into the woods. I'd grown up out here. exploring every square inch as a kid. For Bonnie and Paul, it's different; it's a fun trip to Grandpa's. I remember how I felt, going to my own grandfather's place in Montgomery County, the chance to explore all that forest I didn't always have access to.
We crossed the creek and stopped for a moment. The Harp Tree had deteriorated a lot; it was barely even recognizable as a tree anymore. I looked at the one remaining limb and the ugly stump, working from old memories and figuring out where it had been pointing.
"What're you doing, Uncle Lou?" asked Bonnie.
"Trying to remember where this tree pointed to when I was your age. It kind of went this way, up the creek toward the pond."
"What's down here?" asked Bonnie.
"More trees mostly. You want to see?"
"Yeah! Come on, Paul!"
Paul trotted after Bonnie. "Daddy looking for aliens."
"Are you?" Bonnie asked me.
"If any show up. You never know. What do aliens say, Paul?"
"Take me your leader."
"That's right. What does the Loch Ness Monster say?"
"Tree-fitty."
"Right. You guys ready to go back up to the house? Dinner's probably about ready."
"Yes," said Bonnie,"But I want to come out again later."
After dinner, I went out by myself and walked around the woods for a while. I scanned the trees, looking for another bent one, or some other sign.
Anything the Indians left would be along the creek. They had a tendency to build their civilizations around the water sources. And if there's another sign, a tree or a cairn, it'll be way downstream---There's no point in putting the directional signals too close together. If any remaining signals still exist; almost two centuries of farming this land might have wiped them out.
So let's see. This stream comes from the pond, fed by the spring up in the yard. And it runs down until it hits the Lehigh River. The only Indian path in the area cut around here, skipping this part of the Lehigh and going overland for a while.
I tried to imagine the property as it would have been, centuries before. No farm, no house, no yard. The road wouldn't have existed. For that matter, neither would the pond. It was carved out later, by the earliest settlers.
So this would have been just dense woods, nothing but a spring deep in the valley. The only steady water source until you got down to the river.
I heard voices. The rest of the family was coming down through the field, calling to me. Michelle and Paul walked with my brother, Bonnie, and her family, carrying a saw to cut down a tree.
I joined them as they walked.
"Hi, Daddy!" said Paul. 'We walkin in the woods!"
"I see that," I said.
"What're you looking for, Uncle Lou?" asked Bonnie.
"Just checking around for old stuff, things maybe left behind by the Indians."
"There were Indians here?"
"There were Indians practically everywhere, but yeah, they used to come up this way. They stuck near water usually. Water was very important to them. You need it to drink, you need it to have food. So the water....."
We'd gotten back to what was left of the Harp Tree. I paused, looking over the tree and the stream.
"Uncle Lou?" said Bonnie.
I knelt down and began digging through the loose, muddy dirt at the base of the tree. Bonnie watched, fascinated. After a couple of minutes, I found it: An arrowhead.
"Wow," said Bonnie.
"It's not local to this area," I said. "This looks more like it came from the west. It means there was a different tribe through here at some point."
A stream in a valley, between two mountains. Remote but important.
It was here, the whole time.
We're Pochapuchkug.
"There were really Indians here," said Bonnie.
"There were," I said. "They came this way because there was water. This was a small village named Pochapuchkug."
The sun had gone down, and it was darker and colder outside. Not that this made any different to the kids, who were racing around the house playing and screaming. It's what kids are good at. The rest of us sat in the living room, socializing.
Outside, above the hill, there was a bang, followed by a few more. My brother looked at his watch.
"Well, if you go outside, you can get a firework show," he said.
"Fireworks on Thanksgiving?" asked Jen.
"There's a new Korean Church up the hill," said Jon. "They light off fireworks for practically any occasion."
"Ahhh," I said. "How long's it been there?"
"A couple of years."
"Which coordinates with the time frame I was wondering about," I said. "That explains the UFO sightings."
I walked out onto the porch and looked up the hill. I could see them, bright colored lights, flashing unexpectedly in the sky.
I finished tying the Christmas tree to the roof of the Prius and headed back to the barn. Paul was hugging my brother and his wife.
"Bye, Uncle Jon," he said. "Bye, Aunt Amy."
"Bye, Paul," Amy said. "We'll see you at Christmas."
"Yeah! Christmas!"
"Thanks for everything, Jon," I said to my brother. "See you in a month, man."
"Hey. We'll be there."
I got into the car, and my wife pulled out of the driveway and started up the hill.
"So," she said,"Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Yeah," I said. "I think I did."
We got to the top of the hill, heading west.
"Didn't catch Bigfoot, though," she said.
I shrugged.
"Well," I said. "There's always next time."
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