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."
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