Personal Space (Part Five): Fifty Shades Of Green

I had my handout on the table, and my lesson on crop circles prepared. For almost six years now, I've been teaching teenagers how to investigate the paranormal. We meet once a month, the group Teen Paranormal, and I teach kids how to responsibly investigate. I'd like to think I'm making a difference.
I was sitting in the Sloan Room with my equipment when one of the kids showed up early. Olivia. She sat down at the table.
"Hey, kid," I said. "We're learning about crop circles and hoaxes tonight."
"Can I talk to you?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "What's up?"
"I saw something," she said. "Some kind of light."
I sat back in my chair, nodding. "Recently?"
"Couple weeks. My mom says not to tell anyone, because they'll think I'm crazy."
"I don't think you're crazy. Tell me about it."
"We were driving home from Bellefonte. I saw something in the air, flying around. It changed color, from white to red to green, and it moved around different.....Not, like, a plane, they don't turn, you know?"
"I know what you mean, yeah."
"So my mom says to not tell anyone, because it's crazy."
"It's not crazy. You saw a light in the sky; that happens all the time. Trick is to figure out what it was."
"How?"
"Get online and check what's in the area. Look for airports, military bases, drone clubs. If you can get back to the place, check for any scientific anomalies. Since you don't know what you're dealing with, check everything---Radiation, electricity, black light." As I said it, I realized I hadn't done this with my own sighting. "See what results you come up with, and where that leads you. I can loan you some equipment, and help out a little."
Olivia smiled. "Thanks."

After work, I rode down to Jay and Water Streets. I stopped and got out at the spot where I'd seen the purple light in the sky, and got out my equipment.
I'd been acting like a witness, not an investigator. I'd realized that as I'd spoken to Olivia. I hadn't done any tests, I hadn't really looked deeply into it. I began by testing for radiation traces, because that's the most pressing issue if it's there.
I realized just how dependent I'd become on being part of a group. It had been a while since I'd had a big UFO sighting, and I hadn't understood just how dependent on the Piper Museum I'd become. Was a time, I'd have just gone in and asked about flights and drones, and gotten my answers. I'd resigned from Piper last year. LHPS wouldn't help with this. I was on my own.
No radiation. No EMFs. No biological samples I could see anyplace. I was going to have to check later on flights and atmospherics. I packed my equipment back into the pouch.
I got back on my bike and took one more look around. Then I started riding home.
What the hell had I seen?

I was in my home office when my cell phone rang. I hate cell phones, but I'd been expecting this call. I was looking over an e-mail from a woman in Montgomery County who'd found my articles somehow and was asking about a haunting in her place in Norristown. I answered the e-mail.
I fished the phone out of my pocket. I was sitting at my desk, Paul in my lap, my figurines of Bigfoot, an alien, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Mothman sitting on the shelf above.
"Hello."
"Hello, Lou? This is the field researcher with MUFON. I'd like to talk to you about the report you filed."
"Sure." I'd put in a report with the Mutual UFO Network, listing it in their database. Since I'd been having no luck with this one, I'd decided to report it and open the field.
"You did well writing out the report; I only have a couple of questions. Most of the time, people miss things, or don't explain themselves well. You did a good job."
"Oh, thanks." Paul started trying to get my attention. I held up one finger.
"When I look into this, I'm going to call airports and military bases, see what I can rule out. That doesn't mean that I automatically think that's what you saw, but----"
I'd delivered some variation on this speech a thousand times. "You should know that I'm a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers," I said. "I do know how this goes. I get it."
"Oh! Well, okay, then. Can you describe again what happened?"
"I saw a purple light, moving erratically through the sky. I was looking roughly northeast."
"Did it have any kind of shape, or just a light?"
"No, I couldn't see any shape. It was just a light; aside from the color and the directional change, I would have assumed it's a plane."
"You said you were in Lock Haven. Normally, we try to give the coordinates as best we can figure it out. Would you care to give me a more precise location?"
"Why not? You got my cell number; you already know where to reach me. I was at the corner of Water Street and Sarah's Alley, looking northeast. The light was over the mountains, could have been half a mile off."
"Okay. Thanks. That's about all I need for now. Can I contact you if I have any further questions?"
"Of course."
"Thank you."
I hung up and set my phone down. "What's up, little man?"
Paul pointed toward the hallway. "I think there's a Giwoggle in my bedroom."

"Yes sir. Can I help you?" I stood at the circulation desk, facing the man standing there holding the book.
"Yeah, I have a question." He set the book down on the counter. It was an older printing, yellow cover. "My wife and I have this book. It's a first printing, you can see right here.....It's old, you can tell that. Can you tell me how much it's worth?"
"I can't, sir. I'm not allowed." I've been a museum curator twice in my life. It's one of the things they drill into you during training: Never put a ptice on anything. It can land you in legal trouble. I get people who ask, but I'm not allowed or qualified to price an item.
"Why not?"
"I'm not qualified to say how much," I said. "There's a rule that I can't put a price on things. My advice is to find an appraiser."
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could give me some idea."
"Not allowed, sir. There's a good book appraiser in Avis, and I'd ask her."
"Well, how much would you pay for it?"
"I really couldn't say."
"I don't know why not."
"I'm not a trained appraiser, sir. My opinion would be meaningless."
"Not to me."
They always push when I say no, but this guy was really trying to press it. Mel was watching with some amusement. "Sir, I'm sorry. I'm not an appraiser, which is what you need. I am not qualified or allowed to discuss money."
He thought it over.
"Can anyone else here give me a....?"
"No, sir, none of us are appraisers."
He took the book and left. Mel said,"Well, that was interesting."
"I get that a couple of times a year. He was worse than most."
"At least he wasn't that guy in the white robes. Where's he been?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him in two, three weeks."
"Maybe he went back to basketmaking."
I laughed. "I don't have a better explanation."
Mel handed me a copy of UFOs Above PA. "Your ILL book came in. You have it until August nineteenth."
"That should be way more time than I need," I said. "Thanks."
I went back to my desk and re-opened the e-mail from the Montgomery County woman. I couldn't do too much of an investigation from a hundred miles away, but maybe I could find out a few things.
I checked the website for Montgomery County. It had some of the records online. I signed up for an account and went to work. It took me a couple of tries before I figured out how to best search, but I came up with the deeds on the house going back to 1984. I found all the owners names, and then went to check obits.
I found one for the woman who had owned it in 1984, and then checked Findagrave. Her grave was in Montgomery County, and I traced a couple of her relatives. Her daughter had had a baby who'd died in 1986, while the family had still owned the house. Bingo.
I wrote it all up and e-mailed it to the woman. Not perfect, but not bad from halfway across the state.

"Good morning, Daddy!" Paul walked into the bedroom. I sat up in my Chupacabra pajamas, checking the time. Eight-fifteen. He'd gone easy one me. "Happy birthday!"
"Thank you, little man."
"I maded you breakfast in bed!"
He handed me an open Jello packet and a bottle of Gatorade. I smiled. "Thanks, little guy. That was sweet of you."
"Are you going to work today?"
"I am, just a little later."

I was mowing the lawn while Paul splashed around in his pool. My mentor had sent us the pool, a decent twelve-footer, and Paul loved it. I was within sight, getting some mowing done, when I looked up and saw Joel standing on the sidewalk.
Joel was a city councilman and candidate for mayor. I turned off the mower and walked over to him. I'd been expecting him to drop by, and had left him a note on the door. Joel had no reason to think I might be mowing the lawn.
"Glad I caught you," he said. "Here's the key."
He handed me a thick key. I put it on my Bigfoot multi-tool keychain. "Thanks. I'll lock up the playground on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and whenever else you need."
"That's a big help." He'd led a fight to get a publicly-funded playground opened to the public again, instead of only the school district. I'd volunteered to help out.
"You know, there's an old law on the books that says the mayor can recruit his own private army," I commented. "I never thought it would be for a playground."
"I'm not the mayor yet," said Joel.
"Wait until November," I said.

When I got to work, there was a box of doughnuts on my desk with a note from Eleanor, one of our best volunteers. I smiled and carried them to the back room---We have a counter that we call the Bermuda Triangle, because anything put there disappears.
Mel and Zach saw me bringing in the doughnuts. "I was wondering if you were going to share them," Mel said.
"Oh god, of course I'm going to share them," I told her. "No way I'm capable of eating a dozen doughnuts singlehandedly."
Zach took a doughnut. "So how does it feel to be fifty, old man?"
"Well, right now I'm gonna gimp off to my desk and set a spell before I forget why I came here," I said. We both laughed. "No, actually, it's not bad. Nothing particularly feels any different."
Nancy, the children's librarian, came in. "Oh, doughnuts!" she said. "I'll just have a quarter of one. Anyone want to split it?"
I grabbed a strawberry doughnut. "I'm going to my desk. I don't need that kind of negativity in my life."
I sat down at my desk.
Nothing feels any different....
My line rang. I picked it up. "Ross Library."
"Hey there," said Resurrection Casey on the other end. "Happy birthday!"
"Hey, Casey. Thanks. You get your bus fare this month?"
"Just came, thanks."
"Anytime. You calling from college?"
"Yeah, I'm between classes. I'm not dumb enough to think I can get you on your cell phone. How you doing?"
"Doing okay. I was just about to make a few calls. I'm following up on a UFO sighting in June."
"Oh, yeah? Who saw a UFO?"
"Well....Me."
"No kidding? At least you don't have to judge the witness reliability."
I laughed. "I guess not. I've been working on this and others half the summer."
"You know what? You've inspired me. It's been a little slow lately. I'm gonna look into some UFOs around here. Know any good ones?"
I brought up the MUFON map on my computer. "Got a black triangle in Walnutport."
"That sounds great. I'm on it. Happy birthday, boss."
"Thanks, Casey. I'm gonna make a few calls about the UFO."
"Have fun. See you!"
I was just getting off the phone when Tif rolled in with her wheelchair, Paul riding on the back. "Happy birthday, Daddy," she said. She handed me a patch. "Got this for you."
It was a nice patch, grey and white, showing the river and the words LOCK HAVEN. I smiled. "Thanks, hon. It's great. I need to figure out where I'm going to wear it."
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Paul said. Paul loves birthdays. I hugged him.
"Did we come while you're too busy?" Tif asked.
I shook my head. "Nah, just following up on a UFO. Nothing from the airport, Nothing from the military bases. Not that I expected much, but still."
"What's next?"
"Not sure. I got a book through ILL, but it's not as good as I thought it might be. The author reported some interesting sightings, but he dramatized them. He also goes out of his way to discount most explanations, basically blowing off the government testing as a possibility. Hell, government testing probably accounts for half the sightings."
"Have a good birthday anyway. You're fifty!"
"I am well aware that I'm fifty. It's actually been a good day. I ordered myself a new Snallygaster shirt." I was currently wearing the blue one that showed Bigfoot being abducted by a UFO. "Gotta plan for next month. I have a lesson on UFOs coming up, and a couple of fundraisers."
Tif smiled. "That sounds fun."
"We can only hope."

I was at the grocery store after work, which is my usual stop. It's nice having the local grocery halfway between work and home. I was grabbing something to eat, plus stuff for dinner tomorrow.
My fiftieth birthday was almost over. A song began on the speaker system, and I found myself bouncing my head and shoulders to the rhythm.
In my defense, it was "Dancing Queen."
I danced to the music, pushing my cart down the aisle. Anybody could be that guy.....The store was empty, which meant nobody saw the fifty-year-old in the alien hat bopping to the music.
"Who's that girl....Watch that scene....Digging the dancing queen."

Personal Space (Part Four): Creature Comforts

I was checking in returned books when my wife walked into the library. She uses the staff parking lot and the staff door; I'm used to that. I ride a bike to work; my family is owed a space.
"The kids are upstairs, in Children's," I said.
She nodded. "What are your plans for Sunday?"
I hesitated. This is the way she gets me into home repair, or a three-hour trip to Wal-Mart, or something. "I don't think I have anything going on."
"My cousin is in Maryland. He's up for the week. Want to go and visit?"
"You mean, drive clear to Maryland....."
"I was thinking we could go down Saturday night, after you're finished work," she said. "Find a hotel in Frederick and stay overnight. We can get together with my cousin Sunday."
I considered it. Short notice, but I had nothing going. It kind of reminded me of the stuff we used to do when we were first married, before careers and kids. Taking off for no reason, going exploring just because.
I smiled. "Why not? I'm in."

I walked into the house with the groceries, dropping them on the counter. Paul ran into the kitchen to greet me.
"Hi, Daddy! Are we going on alien patrol tonight?"
"Yes we are, little man. But give me a minute first, okay? Gotta look something up."
I went upstairs to my office. About ninety-six hours to find and plan an adventure in Frederick, Maryland. There had to be something fun I could look into.
I dropped at my desk and pulled out some books. I got The Field Guide To North American Monsters, I got Weird Maryland. I paged through with more interest than I ever had in my college textbooks, looking for something good.
I found it in Weird Maryland.
The Snallygaster.

"The Snallygaster," I said to Tif. "I've always wanted to go after the Snallygaster."
"And what's the Snallygaster?" Tif asked. I was sitting on the porch steps. She and Paul were floating in the pool, because it was about ninety degrees out. I'd found them there when I'd arrived home from my staff meeting, which had been inexplicably short.
"I'm not sure if you'd classify it under a cryptid or an enigmatic entity," I said,"But it's sort of the official state monster of Maryland. Stories go back about two hundred years---It's a sort of dragon thing with wings, a beak, teeth, and tentacles. Almost like it's winning a strangeness contest with the Jersey Devil. They were sighted during the Civil War, and often during Prohibition. Been reading about it for years, but I didn't realize it's more or less specific to Frederick."
"And you're going to investigate this thing?"
"I've had worse Saturday nights."
I walked inside, and up to my office. I got my copy of Weird Maryland and brought it down, showing it to her.
"I need a little break from all the UFOs," I said.
"You own a copy of Weird Maryland?" she asked. "You don't live in Maryland."
"Yes, but I may visit. This came in a set with Weird Virginia. Here, page seventy-two---Here's the Snallygaster."
I showed her the picture. It depicted a weird-looking creature with tentacles and wings. "Mom will never let you get one of those in the Prius," she said.
"Maybe a little one."

"Yay! We are in the hotel!" Paul dropped his backpack, and climbed up on the bed. Paul loves hotels; he treats them with a reverence reserved for sacred ground. We don't even have to be doing anything exciting; just the simple fact of a hotel is enough for him.
I set down my bag. "Tonight, we do the alien patrol in Maryland, little man. And I have an added surprise for you."
"What?"
"Here in Frederick is the home of a creature known as the Snallygaster. It's a sort of dragon thing with a beak. We're going to go look for that when we're out."
"Okay! You want to go now?"
"Let me just get washed up." I pulled my crytopzoology kit out of my bag, and slung it over my shoulder. "Give me just a minute."

Paul and I got off the elevator in the lobby---Like all preschoolers, Paul is the only one permitted to press elevator buttons. Two women were working the front desk; I walked up and leaned on the desk.
"Can I help you, sir?" one of them asked.
I've long since gotten over feeling stupid asking about this stuff. I said,"I'm a writer, dealing largely with paranormal occurrences."
"Paranormal....ooooh." She seemed impressed.
"My son and I are looking into a creature from around here," I said. "It's a sort of weird-looking dragon that's been sighted in Frederick. Are you familiar with the Snallygaster?"
They glanced at each other and gave me blank looks. "No," she said. "I've never heard of that."
The other one shook her head. I said,"Okay, then. Thanks."
Paul and I walked out the door. I said,"Nice night for this. Not too hot. North is that way, it's about nine-thirty."
"There's the moon," said Paul.
"It's almost full. Couple more days."
We walked through the parking lot, around the building, until Paul said,"Daddy? I'm scared. I want to go back inside."
"What's wrong, little guy?"
"I'm scared of the Snallygaster."
"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry." I knelt down and hugged him. "Don't worry, buddy. Look, nothing's going to hurt us. The Snallygaster is probably just a story. Sometimes these things turn out to be real, or sort of real, like the Mothman. Sometimes they just turn out to be old stories somebody made up, and it's our job to find that out, too."
"Okay."
"We'll do one run around the building, check for aliens, see if we can pick out our room, and then go in. Okay?"
'Okay."
"Come on, little man. Let's look for aliens."

Middle of the night. I woke up in the hotel. I'm at that age where I don't sleep through the night like I used to. Little by little, I'm turning into my father. Except cooler. I padded over to the bathroom, and then set down in the chair by the window for a while. I was wearing my Lake Erie Monster pajamas.
The clerks hadn't heard of the Snallygaster. Neither had the maid I'd asked on the way back in. So what did that tell me? Usually, people in these places are very familiar with the local legends, and willing to share. The people in Erie had been very open about the vampire grave. Up in Salem, you can't get them to shut up about witches. But nobody here knew what I was talking about.
So what did it mean?

"Can you connect to the internet on that thing?"
My wife was sitting on the bed with her phone. She looked up at me. "Sure. Why?"
I was pacing the room with my coffee. We'd slept until nine-ish and then hit the lobby for the free coffee, and went back to the room to pack up. I hate smart phones; I absolutely despise them. The words in any language do not exist to explain just how much I hate those things. But I'm not above letting someone else use one for me, if pressed.
"Find out something for me. Check and see if Maryland is a red state or a blue state."
"You mean, who they voted for...."
"Yeah. Find that out."
She began tapping on her little screen, a gesture that is foreign to me. "You planning to boycott the whole state, or what?"
"No, just some research. The Snallygaster has a tendency to show up in times of national crisis, and the legend sort of keeps things under control. During the Civil War, stories of it were used to frighten escaped slaves. In Prohibition, Snallygaster sightings were used to scare the feds away from stills. In fact, there was a story of a Snallygaster drowning in a whiskey vat. We're sure as hell in crisis now, and I wondered about that."
Michelle looked up. "They voted for Hillary."
"Hmm. Odd. How about just Frederick County? Can you find that?"
She looked for a moment more, and then said,"This county? Trump."
I nodded. "That explains a lot. It's why nobody I talk to has heard of this thing; usually that's not the case. The legend gets popular in times of crisis, but Frederick County doesn't feel like it's in crisis. They support Trump, the dumb bastards."
"The legend really works like that?"
"It's not the first time a president has played into it. Teddy Roosevelt hunted the Snallygaster in 1909."
Paul was leaning against the window. "Daddy! I'm looking for the Snallygaster out in the trees!"
"Good, little guy. You keep an eye out. We have a surprise for you on the way home."
"What is it?"
"You'll see."

Paul was splashing in the pool of the other hotel, where we'd met up with Michelle's cousin Michael. The little guy had been desperate to go in a pool somewhere, and Michael's hotel was much nicer than ours. This can happen when the company is paying for it. This may surprise you, but nobody goes into the field of either paranormal investigation or freelance writing to get rich.
"So what do you do?" he asked me. He'd been talking about trucking for half an hour, which I really didn't mind. I'd spent the time sipping a glass of water with lemon and relaxing.
"Little of everything, more or less," I said. "Librarian, writer, tour guide, paranormal investigator."
"I envy you," he said. "Love the paranormal TV shows. Ever see Bigfoot?"
"Not really, but I'm not ruling it out, either. Remember, panda bears, platypuses, and gorillas were all considered mythical until someone actually captured one. I don't know for sure about Bigfoot either way, but I'm not going to commit and say he's definitely not real."
"Ever catch any ghosts?"
"Occasionally. More often, I find some conclusion that fits what we know. That's the thing with paranormal investigation---You check every possibility, and try to rule things out. Sometimes you wind up with a mystery, but I'd just as soon solve one."

You can get from most of Pennsylvania to most of Maryland by simply staying on Highway 15. We were riding up the highway in the afternoon, going north, heading back home. Paul was in the back, amusing himself by asking,"What's my surprise?"
"You'll see in a minute, little man," I said. "We're almost there."
I looked over to the east, along the mountain range, and pointed. "Lenticular cloud." It was a big, lens-shaped cloud over the horizon. "You remember I mentioned them when I talked about Hiram Cranmer last week? That's what he was looking at."
"Oh, yeah," Michelle said. "I've never seen one before."
"They're fairly uncommon. A lot of people mistake them for UFOs, especially around sunset."
"I don't blame them."
"Must be some turbulence over the mountain."
I watched the cloud as we rode past, going north.

"Here's your surprise, Paul," I said as we turned into the park.
Paul looked over the playground. "Aww....There's no slide."
"Oh, guess again, pal." I got out of the car as we parked, and let him out the back door. "That big, tall thing there? That's the slide."
He gasped, looking at it. The thing looked like a covered bridge set up on one end, and had to be sixty feet tall. He said,"Can I go on it?"
"Of course, little man. That's why we came."
He ran for the entrance, and I followed. I asked him,"You want me to come with you?"
Paul looked up the slide. "Maybe the first time."
We walked up the ramp to the top of the slide, sat down, and looked down. The slide reached out below us, stretching down to the ground.
I looked at Paul.
"You ready?"
He grinned.
"Yeah!"
And we launched.

Personal Space (Part Three): May The Forest Be With You

It was a Sunday afternoon. I had the grill going, Tif and Biz came up to the house, and the table was stacked with gifts.
It was my son's fifth birthday party.
Five years ago, my wife had gotten the call at work, and then called me. I'd left my desk at the library and we'd jumped in the car, driving all night to New Orleans. I hadn't had much time to look into the local ghosts or the Honey Island Swamp Monster---We'd arrived fourteen hours after our baby boy was born, and adopted him.
"A new slingshot! Thank you, Daddy!" Paul cried out as he opened a gift.
"Knew you needed one," I said. "You can bring it along to Kettle Creek."
"Are you guys going back to Kettle Creek?" Biz asked.
I nodded. "Next weekend. I even talked my editor into an article for the PA Wilds. I've been invited to do another talk up there. I'm talking about Dorcie Calhoun, the guy who discovered gas in Leidy Township. He's quite the story---He claimed he got the location in a dream, and even though I'm not a fan of psychic activity, I can't argue the results. His family's cemetery was moved to build the Kettle Creek dam, and not all the bodies were found, so no wonder the place is so haunted."
"Gonna look into that?"
"We'll see. Last year, I looked into the water monster. This year, I thought I might check out some old UFO sightings. Hiram Cranmer claimed to have spotted UFOs in the area. Actual flying saucers, silvery, flying for a while and then turning translucent and vanishing."
"You got me my favorite book!" Paul shrieked, holding up his new copy of Where Is My Balloon?
"I did. I thought it might solve you checking it out of the library weekly."
"What's this big one?"
"That's from Aunt Paula." Aunt Paula had been my high school chemistry teacher. She'd been my mentor; Paul was named after her. "Let's get it open/"
I took my Swiss Army Knife and opened the box. It contained several pool toys for the inflatable pool out back, which was also a gift from Paula.
"This...is....so...AWESOME!" shouted Paul. On his birthday, it's useless to remind him about his indoor voice. "It's a UFO floatie!"
I removed the inflatable flotation device, shaped like a UFO. "Hunh. This is actually about the same color as that thing I saw."
"Can I take it out to the pool now, Dad? Can I?"
"Sure, little man. Let me blow it up."

I stood over the photocopier, making copies of the Army Corps of Engineers records for the cemetery removals in Kettle Creek. What's with that look? What do you do at work?
I'd been organizing the Pennsylvania Room, mostly because I'm the only one who knows the system in there. In the section with the death and funeral stuff, I'd found a bound copy of the records from 1960, when the dam was built and cemeteries were moved to accommodate it. So, of course, I had to photocopy it. I'm not dumb enough to assume I can read it and remember without taking a copy---I'd learned that the hard way.
"You find my phone yet?"
I looked up. It was the lunatic in white, standing far too close at about six inches away. It was another one of those times when he'd said something fairly nonsensical and I felt like I was supposed to respond with my half of the secret password. "And the dog plays the fiddle." Unfortunately, my mind didn't work that fast, and all I could come up with was,"Wait, what?"
"I lost my cell phone in here. I'm offering ten dollars as a reward."
"Well, nobody's turned one in at  the desk. That's about all I can say."
"You have a custodian here? Maybe he found it."
"He'd turn it in to the desk. That's procedure."
The conversation was almost making sense, and we couldn't have that. "I think they don't give you full minutes. When you pay for ten minutes, I don't think you really get ten minutes. You think they give you the full minute?"
"I can't say I ever timed it."
"They're ripping you off. It's a mafia thing. I know it."
"Um."
"Fortunately, I know people. I have contacts with spy cameras and secret stuff."
I finished my photocopies and got out of arms' reach, retreating back behind the desk.
"You still doing that open house thing?"
I squinted, as if it would help. "The what?"
"You know, you do them open houses."
"You mean, my tour? It's every Friday night, but we don't actually go into houses."
"Ohhh....I see. You think your co-workers maybe found my phone?"

I love Kettle Creek State Park. Take the paranormal aspects out, and it's still a wonderful camping spot in northern Clinton County, in Leidy Township. However, if you're into paranormal investigation, it's even better. It's got its own water monster. UFOs have been sighted there, and I don't doubt there have been Bigfoot reports, as well. To create the lake they had to move cemeteries, and some of the bodies were unfound, probably leading to hauntings, as well, and with Dorcie Calhoun's dream, there's even credible psychic activity. For a paranormal investigator, Kettle Creek is one-stop shopping.
Ian arrived as I was finishing the tent set-up. Ian is a friend of mine, and the ranger up at Kettle Creek. He plans programs, which is why I get to do this every year.
"Hi, Ian," I said. "I promise to make it good for you tonight."
"Oh, I'm sure," he agreed. "Got some information on Dorcie Calhoun?"
"Him, plus some other stuff as a side bonus. You know the old postmaster Hiram Cranmer saw UFOs in the area where Calhoun was drilling? I thought I might have some information about that, too."
"Sounds great! I'm looking forward to it."
"Me, too. If the weather holds out, we're going to go up and take a look at his grave later."
"In New Maple Grove?"
"Yep; I got the maps from CCGS. Calhoun's whole family was moved from the small cemetery on his mother's farm. So I have moved graves and UFOs to check into, how about that?"
"Sounds good. As long as the weather holds."
I looked up at the darkening sky. "Well, let's hope for this to pass over."

I sat in the tent, the rain pounding down. Paul had my wife's cell phone, and was sitting on his sleeping bag recording a video. He'd been watching a lot of YouTube lately, to my chagrin, and had been taking an interest in making his own little videos. Michelle lay on her sleeping bag on the other side of the tent, staring at the rain fly.
"Okay, here's the deal," I said. "If this were a desperate situation, I could try to get a fire started. But our lives don't depend on this, and I'm not gonna be able to start anything in this rain. So I propose we drive down to Renovo, and eat dinner at Yesterday's. And then maybe run up and find the graves."
"That sounds good," said Michelle.
"Daddy! I'm filming!" said Paul.
"Sorry, little man. If you can take a break, how about we find someplace in town that serves pizza?"
"Pizza! Yes!" said Paul.

I'd last eaten at Yesterdays in Renovo several years ago, on a paranormal investigation. We'd been looking into a house across the street, and it had run late, so we'd stopped over for a meal. It was perfect for LHPS---Built on an Indian burial ground, and right across the street from our investigation. It was also the best place to eat in Renovo.
"Would you like some dessert?" the waitress asked.
"No, thanks," I told her. "We're roughing it."
I looked at the sky as we left the restaurant. "I think we're clear," I said.
"Looks like the rain is done," agreed Michelle. "The weather is reporting that it's through for the day. A few clouds, that's it."
Clouds.....Something was nagging at my subconscious, something I was missing.
I said,"You can get wireless in Renovo?"
"They even have cell service up here now."
"In Renovo. Jesus." I looked at my watch. "We still have time to get to the cemetery before my talk."

"There it is! Dorcie Calhoun! I can see it from here!" I pointed as we pulled up in the Prius, Paul playing with Michelle's cell phone in the back seat. A cemetery that had been moved and probably haunted; it's the perfect family trip.
I leaped out of the car and took photos of the gravestone---Dorcie Calhoun, the man who'd gotten rich off a dream, buried with his parents. Then I turned and started looking for Hiram Cranmer's.
Paul climbed out of the car, aiming the cell phone my way.
"Okay, Dad, start speaking," Paul directed.
I'd done plenty of interviews and media appearances before, but this was the first one directed by a preschooler. "I'm looking for the grave of Hiram Cranmer, the man who saw ghosts and UFOs in Leidy Township," I said, falling automatically into my professional tour-guide voice, as if it wasn't my son pointing a cell phone at me.
"Yes, yes, yes," Paul said, trying to sound like an interviewer.
"Should be in this row somewhere, I think," I said.
"Yes, yes, you're doing it, you're doing it." I don't know where Paul learns this stuff.
I spotted the stone, a small piece with Cranmer's name, the dates, and his military rank. "Here he is!" I called.
I got a couple of photos of the stone while Paul filmed me. Then I looked up at the cloudy sky, with the mists rising from the mountains.
And it hit me.
I knew what Cranmer's UFOs were. Atmospherics, of course.....
"The video isn't over yet!" Paul called. "Talk about something from this cemetery!"
I darted back over toward Calhoun's grave.
"Well, I'll tell you this," I said,"A lot of the stones in this cemetery were moved. They came from someplace else in 1960, when they built the Kettle Creek dam. Those stones over there were moved, the bodies were dug up and moved to this place....How awesome is that?"
"It's good! Now say more for the video!"
"This one was moved, this one was moved....All of these were. And this one here was the man who discovered gas in Leidy Township! He knew to drill for gas by dreaming about it." I walked back toward the car. "And now it's time to go, little man. Still got time to get to my speech tonight."

I stood in the Nature Center, the small cabin in Kettle Creek designed for programs. Ian sat by the door, a grin on his face.
"Thank you, folks, for coming to listen tonight," I said. "I promise I don't always look like I sweated putting up a tent in the heat and then got rained on for two hours." I was wearing my blue UFO shirt with Believe on it. In the audience, Paul sat coloring, wearing his UFO shirt that said We come in pizza.
"Dorcie Calhoun was born on the family farm here in Leidy Township in 1905," I said. "Early on, he wanted to raise money and drill for gas. He was told there was none----Professional geologists told him he was wasting his time. But Dorcie Calhoun had a dream. A literal, actual dream---He dreamed that if he drilled by an old apple tree, he'd never have to work again. I'm not a big one on psychic activity, but I can't argue with the results. He spent fifteen years raising money, got a secondhand gas rig, and started up the mountain on a rainy, muddy day---Kinda like today actually. And when the rig got stuck, Dorcie said,'Forget it. Let's just drill here.' And he struck gas."
I paused for a moment to glance quickly around the audience. The trick is to sort of unfocus and let your eyes roam over everyone a little. That way, they all get the impression you're talking directly to each of them.
"Now, I'm gonna deviate for a moment, and mention Hiram Cranmer. Cranmer was the postmaster here in Leidy, and he had claimed to have encountered ghosts, buried treasure, and UFOs. Now, he saw the UFOs after Dorcie started drilling, and suggested that aliens were pretty interested in our gas fields."
Laughter.
"I have a better suggestion. Dorcie would have been changing the air currents a bit here when he was clearing the land and drilling, leading to some climate changes nobody had ever seen before. I think Cranmer was looking at that without realizing it. He was seeing lenticular clouds."
A woman in the front row picked up her phone; I could see her doing a search for lenticular clouds. I continued,"Lenticular clouds are lens-shaped clouds, often mistaken for UFOs. They're formed when air travels over the mountains, with turbulence on the other side. It would have happened with Dorcie clearing and drilling down below, and Cranmer saw them. This explains his report that they were silvery colored, and faded away."
The woman was showing everyone her phone, with a photo of a lenticular cloud on it. Ian looked it over, and nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "I can see that."

I sat in the dark, at the picnic table, smoking a cigar. I was wearing my new UFO rig, testing it out. It's a black harness with pockets that I can clip other pouches onto, carrying all my investigative equipment with me. I liked the look, but it felt a little bulky. I was going to have to make some adjustments.
I heard the tent unzip, and Paul came out to me.
"What're you doing up?" I asked.
"Can't sleep yet, Daddy," he said.
"Okay," I said. "Sit here with me a while, and in a bit, we'll both go to bed."
"Together? At the same time?"
"Yeah. I got my chupacabra pajamas in there."
We sat companionably on the bench for a bit. Paul asked,'What's that fire in your hand?"
"This? It's a cigar." Paul had never seen one before; I'd cut back drastically since he was born. "I smoke them sometimes."
"Can I touch it?"
"Touch this end. The other end is real hot." I like to encourage curiosity and investigation.
Paul was silent for a minute. Then he said,"Can we go look for aliens, Daddy?"
"Sure, little man. And then bed."
Paul turned on his flashlight. We started walking down the path, to the south. Partway down, I felt his tiny hand slip into my own.
"I love you, Daddy," he said.
I smiled.
"I love you, too."