Home On The Strange

In the back of the car, Paul stirred and opened his eyes. Looking around, he said,"I know where we are! We're almost to Grandpa's!"
"That's right, little man," I said. "We're in Slatington. Should be at Grandpa's house in five minutes."
"And then I get to see Miles!"
"You do. Miles should be there."
"I'm so excited!"
"Tomorrow morning, we'll be at the annual adoptive family picnic."
Miles, my brother's beagle, ran to greet us as we got out of the car. Paul gave him a hug. "Miles! I misseded you!"
It was dark as we walked into the house. My father was inside, walking with a cane---It was the first time I'd seen that.
"Grandpa!" Paul hugged him.
"Hi, Dad," I said. "How's things?"
"Not bad. I saw a bear in the woods the other day. How's things with you?"
"Pretty good. I did a good fundraiser for Highland Cemetery last week." I set down the luggage. "Hey, Dad, when I was a kid you talked about seeing a shadow figure down in the meadow. You remember that?"
Dad frowned. "I don't."
"It was a long time ago. You mentioned you'd seen a misty sort of figure down in the woods, near the creek. Might have been on a Boy Scout trip you told this story; I don't recall."
"Well, I probably made it up to entertain you, then. Sometimes I did that."
"Too bad, actually. I've recently discovered a corresponding legend from the area."
"Daddy!" said Paul. "I'm teaching Miles how to play Legos!"
My wife and I said simultaneously,"Bedtime."

After everyone else had gone to bed, I went out on the porch. I lit a cigar, and walked up the driveway to the old barn wall. Sitting on it was a girl who always looked like she'd just gotten out of bed. Her dirty blonde hair was a mess, and her white sweatshirt was rumpled. I sat down next to her.
"Hi, Casey," I said. "How you been?"
"Pretty good," said Resurrection Casey. "I'm having clandestine meetings after dark with my mentor."
"Yeah, well, keep it down. My dad'll kill me if he finds out I snuck out past curfew." I handed her twenty dollars. "Knew I'd be seeing you. Here's your bus fare."
"Hey, thanks. You hear it's a full moon on Friday the thirteenth tonight?"
"Yep. Perfect time to get together." I looked up at the clouds. "Not that you can tell by looking exactly."
"We doing any training while you're in town?"
"Yeah. Got two things going right now. One is the Walnutport Canal---"
"The Lady In White!"
"The Lady In White. For decades, there's been a story of a ghost woman in a white dress roaming the canal."

"You grew up here," said Casey. "Ever seen it?"

"I had one experience, and it's a really stupid one," I admitted. "Years ago, I was walking out there, and I did see a woman in a white dress along the canal. I had a Polaroid with me, and I snapped a photo. When it came out, it didn't show the woman. She was gone."

"Oh my god. So the only proof you have...."

"Is a photo that shows nothing, yes."

"Bummer."

"I'm gonna check it out tomorrow. I want you to check into possible explanations. Visit the Slatington Library and pull some books; see if we can back this up historically. I'm also working on a Henry Shoemaker legend that happened not far from here. A hundred and five years ago, Shoemaker and his wife came through here, in the summer of 1914. He found a legend of an Indian who was buried up to his neck in the Lehigh River. This kind of tallies with something my dad claimed to see in the woods, not that he remembers telling me that. See if you can find any verification of the legend."

"I'm on it! What else?"
"I'll meet you tomorrow evening, and we'll hike down and check out the site. I brought my equipment, we'll see what we can find."
"Awesome."
"How's school going?"
"It's boring as hell. I like the writing part. Algebra can go straight to hell."
"Well, I don't disagree, but you sometimes use that, too."
"Bleh. Sucks. Otherwise, things are good."
"Good. I'll meet you tomorrow."

"You want to stop at the canal before we go back to your dad's?" my wife asked. I was sitting beside her in the Prius as we returned from Doylestown, the annual picnic for adoptive families. We'd met some new people, Paul had played with other kids, and my T-shirt with Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster had drawn an inordinate amount of attention.
"Yeah, thanks. I just want to take a walk, do a little checking around."
Michelle pulled into the small parking lot by the Walnutport bridge. We got out. Paul saw the Lehigh River, and immediately ran for it. I walked up over the hill and along the canal.
I'd brought along my leg rig, the small pouch that hooked on my belt and strapped around my leg. It had my equipment in it. I much preferred the tactical vest, but I didn't want anyone thinking I was a shooter. I'd never had to worry about that when I'd been growing up in Slatington, actively getting into trouble. You never know these days.
I slipped an EMF detector out of a pocket, and held the button down. As I walked, it went off by the canal. I looked around and didn't see any reason for this; I followed procedure and snapped a few photos and took a temperature reading. I got nothing unusual that I could see, but the EMFs were weird. I didn't even see any power lines around.
I got as far as the bridge and the locktender's house before turning around. There was a sign there, much like the informational tourism signs I'd helped design in Lock Haven. I read it over; it talked about Frank Kelchner, the final locktender of the canal. I snapped a photo; I might be able to use that information later.
I walked back to the car. Michelle and Paul were emerging from down at the river. Michelle asked me,"Did you get what you needed?"
"I may have, yeah."

My brother and his wife were home when we got back to the farm. I gave my brother a hug, and said,"I need to look something up. The computer password still the same?"
"I think it's on and ready to go, actually."
I sat down at the computer and went to findagrave. I hate online research, and at home I'd have access to all of the books, newspaper articles, and cemetery records. But sometimes, you have to go with what you have. This kind of thing isn't always easy when you're off your home territory.
I searched for the grave of Frank Kelchner. I found him buried in a family plot in Union Cemetery, at the top of the hill in Slatington. It was surrounded with some of his family members, and I checked them out, too. One of them, Elmira Kelchner, jumped out at me.
Elmira had died in 1960, at age forty-seven. Never married. She'd likely been Frank's daughter, and had probably lived in the lock house. She was a good candidate to be the Lady In White.
"Is it okay with you if I do a fireworks show for Paul tonight?" my brother asked me. "He's not afraid, or anything?"
"Nah, he loves fireworks. He'd be thrilled. You have some?"
Jon laughed. "Come and see."
We walked out to the storage room, what had once been my old bedroom. He had a pile of fireworks as tall as I am.
"Jesus," I said. "I hope there's not a fire."
"One of my employees graduated high school," said Jon. "I wanted some fireworks to celebrate, and I discovered that the local store had some great deals. I found out that if you go on the right day, you can really make a steal, and I started stockpiling them. I have enough to really put on some good shows."
"Paul's going to love it," I said.

After dinner, I pulled on my jacket and walked outside. It was raining. I pulled my hood up. Resurrection Casey was waiting for me by the road.
"Find anything good?" I asked.
"The Lady In White story goes back a while; it's hard to tell how long," she said. "It seems the locktenders used to tell it, according to at least one source. One book speculated that it may have started because someone threw a mannequin into the canal during a flood."
"It's possible," I admitted. "I got some EMFs there this afternoon. I'm going to assign this one to you---Follow it up. Also check into Elmira Kelchner, death 1960, who is a good potential candidate. Find out how she died; that'll tell you something."
"This will make a good Halloween article for the LCCC paper."
"Oh, you're writing for that now?"
"Yeah, did you?"
I shook my head. "Not when I was in college, no. I was too busy looking for buried treasure in Bedbug Cave."
We walked down to the meadow. Casey said,"I couldn't find any record of the legend you talked about, with the murdered tribesman. Did your guy ever get really, really obscure?"
"Shoemaker? Almost always," I said. "A lot of his stuff was stories told only to him. We only know some of these because he wrote them down. I deal with that in Lock Haven all the time."
"I checked the distance between here and the Lehigh River," she said. "It's just a little over half a mile. Possible for a ghost to to go that far?"
"Maybe," I said. "That creek down there? It runs to the Lehigh. So, I don't know, we can theorize that a ghost might be able to follow it this far." I got my EMF detector and my thermometer out of my leg rig. "Let's investigate a little. EVPs are useless outdoors in this rain, but we might find something else."
She took out a camera. "Cool. Where do I get one of those neat ray-gun thermometers?"
"I'll get you one."
We began checking around, looking for evidence. Casey snapped a few photos. She said,"Lou. Look at this."
I looked. She'd taken one photo of me, looking around on the edge of the meadow. It showed a weird, white blotch in it, right behind me. It looked symmetrical, kind of like two overlapping ovals, sort of a white hole in space. I said,"Hmm."
"What do you think?"
"I can't exactly pinpoint it," I said. "Could be some sort of lens artifact. Could be a bug. Could be rain."
"Could be a ghost."
"Could be a ghost," I agreed.

"Is it time for fireworks yet?" Paul asked his uncle. Jon glanced out the window.
"Yeah, it looks dark enough," he said. "Come on out to the porch."
We walked outside. A minute later, Jon came out with an armload of fireworks. We could just barely see him in the yard, moving around in the dark. He called,"Ready?"
"Ready," I called back.
We saw his lighter, and then the fuse. And a moment later, we saw the fireworks go up---Huge, bright purples and reds.
Paul laughed appreciatively.
"Uncle Jon! This is the best....Fireworks....Ever!"

#50: Scare You In September

The ruins loomed up over us, a big metal canopy between me and the sky. I stopped my bike and got out.
"There, little man," I said to my son. "That's what we're exploring. It was an old place where they repaired trains, a hundred years ago."
Paul Matthew, five years old, climbed out of the trailer behind the bike. He eyed the ruins of the old railroad repair building. "Wow," he said. "Good!"
"Since it's my last full day off before you start kindergarten, I thought we'd explore, and find you an artifact. Now, we're going to have to sneak in," I said.
Paul looked me over. "Why?"
"Because we're kind of trespassing."
Paul made a great show of tiptoeing as we walked around the fence and into the ruins. The repair building now consisted of rusted, overgrown girders, tucked away off Fourth Street in an area nobody ever went. A few years back, I'd identified it from the Sanborn maps.
I took Paul's hand, keeping him away from both the broken glass and the railroad tracks as we walked around. We stopped at a fallen telephone pole on the northeast end.
"You want one of those telephone pegs, like I have in my office?" I asked.
"Yes! I have wanted one for years!"
"Where's your tool?"
Paul dug into his glittery backpack and handed me a small prybar I'd bought for two bucks at the local hardware store. I used it to pry the rusty nail out of the crossbeam.
"Can I do this?" Paul asked.
"Here. Put it like this, little guy, and push this way."
Paul put the prybar against the wooden peg and pushed, and it slid out neatly into his hand. He said,"I got it!"
"All yours, little guy. That thing is about a hundred years old."
"I'm going to take it for show and tell in school!"
"Come on, buddy. Let's get out of here."
We began walking back to the bike. "Is it lunchtime yet?" Paul asked. "Can we go to McDonald's?"
"Yeah. We can go to McDonald's."

I'm excited about Season Four. By which I mean autumn.

I've always loved autumn; it's my favorite time of the year. Raised largely around the educational system by my teacher mother, it's always felt like the beginning of something to me. A new year, full of promise and adventure.

Also, it has Halloween, so there's that. Ghosts, costumes, and candy.
It's the little things.

My name is Lou. I live in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania, and work at the Ross Library. I'm a historian, writer, paranormal investigator, urban explorer, and tour guide. I never know what to put on my business cards.
I was working the desk at the library when someone said,'Do you still have spaces available for the ghost hunt at Highland Cemetery?"
"Oh, sure," I said. "I can put you on the list."
"Is it okay if I pay half now, and the rest later?" they asked.
"Sure," I said. "I've had so much trouble getting people to pay for this thing, I'll be happy to take a good faith payment."
"Thanks." They handed me twenty dollars. "My partner and I really want to come, but things have been a little tough lately. I'm looking for work. My dad threw me out because I'm trans."
"Oh, man, I'm sorry," I said. "That sucks. Hey, can you spare this? I mean, do you need to keep this right now?"
"No, we'll be okay. I want to come out and support you guys."
"Well, tell you what. Consider yourself paid in full."
"Hey....You sure?"
"Yep. You get the I Support You Discount. You're in."
"Hey, thanks. If you hear of anywhere that's hiring, will you let me know?"
"Sure I will."

I hate meetings. I think most people hate meetings. (I'm not sure about accountants and lawyers.) But when the meeting is about cemeteries, it gets more tolerable.
I'm on the board of Highland Cemetery, the oldest and most historic cemetery in Lock Haven. I sat next ot my friend Chris at the monthly meeting; it's a little like having the two bad boys in the back of the class. The president, Ricki, turned to me.
"Lou, how's the fundraiser coming?"
"So far, so good," I said. "Cindy, I have checks for you to cash. We're filled up as of today. The team is ready; we're planning out the presentation. Cindy, you said you can arrange for a tent and chairs?"
Our treasurer nodded. "The fire company is going to supply them, and get them set up."
"Oh, they'll set them up, too? That's great. Chris here said he'd help me with traffic direction and other stuff."
Chris nodded. "Whatever you need."
"I need plenty," I said. "But we're in good shape, so far, guys. We should be bringing in three hundred dollars or so, assuming the weather holds out. And there's nothing I can do about that."

"Well, our two new members already dropped out," Millie commented. "So we're going to need to recruit."
'How about an ad on the Facebook page?" Kara asked. "We can take applications."
"That sounds like a plan," I agreed.
I sat in Millie's living room, with Millie, Kara, Ashlin, and Lacy. The Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers.
Again with the meetings.
I'd been a member of LHPS since it began, almost twelve years ago. Originally, we'd met in a haunted museum, and later in a different museum, with planes. Ultimately, we'd settled into Millie's house, which was comfortable.
"So we know who's doing what topic for the event," said Kara. "Is there anything else we need to plan?"
"I'll bring a lantern," I said. "I have a nice, chargeable one; used it at Kettle Creek recently."
"And we're planning to split into two groups and do an investigation after the lesson?" Millie asked.
"That's the idea," I said. "I have two graves in mind for that. Both are prominent people connected with possible hauntings, far enough from each other that there won't be any interference. Henry Shoemaker and Annie Halenbake Ross."
"Cool," commented Lacy.
"So, who wants which one?" I asked.
I looked around the room. Everyone was shrugging.
"Seriously?" I said. "You guys don't care? I mean, I want Shoemaker."
"Well, go for it," said Kara. "I'm not going to be picky."
"We have ten in each group?" asked Millie.
I nodded. "We're filled up. Now we just wait it out....This is going to be the most ambitious seminar we've ever done."

On August 28, I woke up too early and threw on my Bigfoot shirt. Paul was already up, dressed, and ready for his first day of school, because five-year-olds are psychopaths. He was on the couch eating a Pop-Tart when I got downstairs.
"Daddy! Is it time to go?"
I looked at my watch. Six-fifteen. "We have plenty of time, little man. Let me get a cup of coffee first."
I went to the kitchen and poured some coffee into my Bigfoot mug. All four dogs followed me, because you never know, I just might spill something. I leaned against the counter, drinking coffee to brighten my mood. I wanted to cry. It was the first time in five years that I wouldn't be spending the morning with my son, and I didn't go through a year and a half of the adoption process to take these things calmly.
At seven-thirty, we left the house. Michelle and I took photos of Paul in his new clothes, because that's federal law, and we walked down the street to his elementary school. We stopped in front of the doors.
"See you," Paul said, and started to walk off.
"Hey!" Michelle called. "How about a hug?"
"Oh. Right." He turned around and hugged us both, and then jetted for the doors. I'm glad he wasn't experiencing any negative feelings, but a little reluctance would have been nice.
Michelle and I turned and headed back toward the house.
"I want to cry," Michelle said. "It's so stupid."
"No," I said. "It's not."
At home, I got some more coffee and retreated to my office. I played around with my new equipment harness for UFO investigation, and finally got it to fit right. I worked on an article for the Pennsylvania Wilds, and then opened up an e-mail from Chris.
Michelle stepped into the hallway. "How's it going?"
"Got an article done about a Henry Shoemaker ghost story in McElhattan," I said. "Chris e-mailed. He wants me to write some stuff for the Renovo tourist promotion website."
"Gonna do it?"
"I have to do something while Paul is in school. And this is a good chance to get some promotion out there. I can write about the Giwoggle and the Susquehanna Seal, and maybe some of the ghost stories. If the local tourism agencies won't promote the paranormal stuff, I will."

 Chris picked up on the first ring, which was good. I was standing outside my office, on the small library porch that nobody ever used but me. Well, and that one homeless guy, but he hadn't been around in a while.
"Hey, Chris? It's Lou."
"Hey, what's up?"
"You still available Saturday morning?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I need you to go up to Highland and  cover for me. Our treasurer arranged for chairs and tents to be delivered, but she set it up for while I'm at work, in spite of me telling her my hours three or four times. So I need the Emergency Back-Up Lou. Can you go and tell them where to be?"
"Sure. Up between Soldiers' Circle and the Kistler Mausoleum, right?"
"Right. About ten feet or so from the road, if possible."
"Can do. If the tent is rectangular, you want it lengthwise with the road, or crosswise, or doesn't it matter?"
"That last one. I don't care. Just so we can get people under it."
"I'll do it."
"Thanks, Chris. I appreciate that."

"That's far enough, Daddy." Paul held up one hand, signalling me to stop on the sidewalk. We were half a block from his school.
"Okay, little man. Love you." I gave him a hug, and he jetted off down the sidewalk. Day Four.
"Love you! Bye!" He waved at me as he went.
Okay. Paul's in school. I have the whole day to myself. Now, what do I want to do?
Back home. Shower. Get dressed---Jeans, black bandanna on my ankle, and my "It's s Chupacabra Thing" shirt. Coffee in my LHPS mug, and an omelette I made.
I sat at my computer, pugs Duke and Gwen sleeping on the floor, and did an article for the PA Wilds about a haunting in Williamsport. Went out on the back porch and smoked a cigar. I binge-watched Lost.
I looked at my watch.
Nine-fifteen AM.
"Fuck!"

"You mind if we stop at Dunkin' Donuts on the way?" Kara asked me. "Get some coffee?"
I waved a hand at her and Lacy form the back of her car. "We're early. Do what you gotta do."
Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the field at the top of Highland Cemetery, between the Kistler Mausoleum and Soldiers' Circle. We got out of the car, Kara and Lacy holding frothy, sugary drinks. The tent was up and the chairs were under it.
I strapped my leg rig on, with the equipment. I was wearing the black LHPS uniform, with the hoodie. "Now's the point where I panic, hoping people will show up."
"What happens if I need to go to the bathroom?" Lacy asked.
"I was hoping nobody would ask that."
"So where's the graves we're investigating?" asked Kara.
"Ross is over there." I pointed west. "Shoemaker's there." East. "They're both connected with hauntings. And far enough away that there won't be any cross-contamination."
"Sounds good," said Kara, setting our equipment out on the table.
I went for a walk. I've always been very comfortable in cemeteries, Highland being my favorite. I walked along the top of the ridge, in the center, where there was a grass path. I strolled among the stones, looking at the graves of the people I'd learned about.
Seymour Durell Ball. How you doing? Reverend Joseph Nesbitt, hi. Thomas Brown Stewart. Been a while, man. 
The wind blew through my hair as I walked out to the end of the field and turned back. When I arrived back at the tent, Lacy was doing an EMF test on the Wilson Kistler mausoleum.
I joined her.
"I got some odd temperature readings on this one," she admitted. "And a couple of EMFs."
I nodded. "A few years ago, I was up here with Millie and Charlie. We got some odd EMFs inside the thing, and no explanation. We never did figure it out."
"Water?"
"Not up this high."
"Would pipes do it?"
"Hmm. Maybe. There is a working water pump right over there. I'm gonna have to come up here with a metal detector. You want to see the grave that was rumored to be a witch? It's right over there."
"Hell, yeah, I do."
I led her across the road and to the flat grave among the trees. She began doing some EMF tests.
"I'm glad you joined, Lacy."
"Well, thanks."
"You're a good teammate. You never know; it's a crapshoot when you get someone new. You've been around over a year now...."
"Have I really?"
"A little over a year. We did Sara's house last summer."
"Wow."
"Anyway. You're a good teammate. I haven't told you until now, but I'm glad you're one of us."
Together, we walked back to the tent, where Kara was checking her laptop.
"How's Paul doing in school?" she asked.
"He loves it," I said. "I, on the other hand, have not been handling it well. I been writing an article every day, which kills maybe fifteen minutes. I'm working on some publicity for Renovo tourism, which takes care of another fifteen. I need stuff to do. I cleaned the garage, Kara. I voluntarily cleaned the garage; that's how low I have sunk."
"Anything I can do?"
"Find something to keep me busy for four to six hours a day."
Kara looked out at the road. "People should be arriving any minute."
I nodded. "Now all we have to do is wait for them to come."

The sun was setting, and I had a lantern hanging from the tent pole. Kara was finishing up playing some EVPs for the crowd---We had twenty people sitting in the audience. I smiled at SaraLee, who'd been a client of ours before. Kara looked up at me.
"Ready to break up for investigations?"
I nodded, and turned to the audience.
"We're going to split everyone into groups. We'll be using what you've learned tonight, and investigating two nearby graves: Henry Shoemaker, and Annie Halenbake Ross."
And this is the part I'm good at. This is where I shine, the thing I learned to fill in the hole where my adolescence should have been. I'll never fill it, despite the lengths I'm willing to go. But I'll always be happy in these moments....Because I have the chance to try.
"Annie died in 1907. She was the founder of the local library, where I work. Henry was a writer and folklorist, and he wrote down a lot of local ghost stories. He was also sort of a hero of mine. If anyone has a preference, join up---I'll take the Henry group with Ashlin here, and Kara and Lacy will take Annie."
"I'll start with Annie," SaraLee said.
We wound up with two roughly equal groups, and split off. Kara and Lacy headed out to Annie's grave, and Ashlin and I led the other group over to Henry Shoemaker's, where we settled onto the grass.
I turned on the recorder.
"It's eight thirty-five PM on September seventh. We're in Highland Cemetery, at the grave of Henry Wharton Shoemaker." I gave it a moment---You have to leave space for EVPs---And then said,"Is there anyone here?"
Nothing happened, and nobody spoke up, so I began to ask questions at a slow, even pace, the way you're supposed to for EVPs. "Can you tell me your name?....What did you do for a living?....Where did you live?...."
One of the attendees, Juli, was using one of my laser thermometers. She spoke up. "I have a temperature drop over there.....It goes from sixty-five to fifty-two."
I raised my eyebrows. "Thirteen degrees? That's a lot."
"It's dropping right over there, by the gravestone."
I shifted and rolled, pulling out my camera. As I moved, I aimed it toward the stone, with Henry Shoemaker's name on it.
"That's significant enough that I'm going to get some photos, see if there's anything there." I clicked a couple of pictures. "Down to fifty-two, that's a lot. Do we have a visitor tonight?"
We waited a moment. Ashlin said,"I really hope so."
"Me, too," I said. "I'd love to encounter Shoemaker's ghost. And with all the haunted stories he collected, I have to say....I think he'd like us being here."

"Thanks for coming, everyone, and supporting Highland Cemetery," I said, back under the tent. "We'll let you know what the recordings turn up, and we encourage you to keep your eyes open for further events."
"We'll be around for a little longer, if anyone has any questions," said Kara.
The audience began to disperse, and we started packing up. I said,"Guys....Thanks. That was great. Thank you for doing this."
"Lacy had an idea," said Kara. "After everyone leaves, how about we do an EVP session at the Kistler Mausoleum? Just us."
I grinned.
"I'm in."

"....Recording," said Kara. "September seventh, nine thirty-two PM."
I set my recorder down on the stone steps. Lacy said,"So tell me about Henry Shoemaker and the werewolves. Someone mentioned Shoemaker and the werewolves."
I laughed. "That comes from one of his scholarly papers, and it sums up everything I love about Shoemaker. We have a bound collection of his papers at the library, and I've been through it a million times. And it's all very educational stuff....You know, Reasons For Collecting Folklore....An Address To Penn State, 1932....And then you hit Chapter Twelve, The Werewolf In Pennsylvania. Presented just as seriously as these other ones."
Lacy laughed. I said,"I hope we got something on the tapes."
"It was a good night," said Kara.
I nodded. "It was."
And we talked and laughed, and let the recorders run, as we sat together. In a cemetery, among the ghosts. You know. Friend stuff.