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."

Personal Space (Part Two): The Sky's The Limit

"Hi," I said. "I'm here to donate a shark."
The woman at the desk in the college biology department looked up at me. "Oh, yes," she said. "The professor mentioned you'd be coming."
I handed her a small jar, with a preserved shark inside it. "One of our library patrons gave it to me. Honestly, I had no idea what to do with it, and having it on my desk creeped me out a little. I thought you guys could use it."
She laughed. "We can definitely use it. Thank you."
"Since I'm here, I might as well stop and check something else. Which way is geology?"

The Geology Professor was working at a microscope when I walked in. She looked up and said,"Oh, hi, Lou. What can I do for you?"
"Since I was in the building anyway, I thought I'd stop by and confirm our program for Thursday. You'll be in talking about meteors at six."
"Meteorites, actually."
"Meteorites. Of course."
She nodded. "I'll be there. I'll have some samples of meteorites, as well. Would you like to hold one?"
"You know, I kinda would."
She handed me a heavy chunk about the size of my fist. It felt like metal. She said,"This is a stony-iron meteorite. Do you know how old this is?"
"Older than I am, I assume."
"Ten million years old. And it came from another world. You're holding something that...."
"I'm holding something that isn't from this planet," I said. "It's actually amazing. Have any meteorites ever hit Clinton County?"
"You know, I'm not sure," she said. "Maybe you should check into that. There might be a historic record, which is definitely your sort of thing."

The thing about the nuts is that once they get to know you, they will hunt you down. As soon as I got off the desk, I turned around, and BAM! There's the guy in the white robe, standing right there behind me.
"I can't get my car out of the garage," he said, apropos of nothing.
"Uh-huh." It's real hard to know what to say sometimes.
"The guy said it would be five hundred dollars, but now he's saying it's fifteen hundred."
"Umm."
"He's trying to steal my car. People are trying to steal my car and my money. Also someone stole my phone"
"Mhm."
"You haven't heard any rumors about me, have you?"
I looked up. "Uh....What kind of rumors?"
"Somebody was telling everyone I have a bunch of guns in my car. A whole LOT of guns."
"So, I better get back to work," I said. and retreated to my desk to look busy. "Hey!" I saw my friend Chris passing my desk, heading to the Reference Room. "Wanna look into an old legend? It's Henry Shoemaker."
His wife, Kate, was with him. She glanced at me. "Is this how you greet everyone?"
"Mostly just Chris here. How you been?"
"Good, good. We've been invited to join the board of Highland Cemetery."
"We can sure as hell use the help," I admitted. "I'm gonna pitch a fundraiser ghost hunt up there, in the cemetery. I'm hoping the board will let me get away with that."
"I'd vote for it."
"Chris---I got a theory."
"About these Henry Shoemaker legends? Let's hear it."
"Got a program coming up about meteors. Meteorites," I said. "I asked if there had ever been a meteorite strikein this area, and my geologist didn't know. So I looked into it. It turns out there has been. Out in Muncy, for one thing, near where Michelle works."
"Isn't that where evil first entered the world, according to Shoemaker?"
"Yep. There was a legend about the gods sending a creature burrowing underground to test the tribe, creating the mountains and erupting up through the ground. Now, it makes sense that a legend like that might come from a meteor strike. Workers found a meteor right there, in that spot, in 1891. It's on display at Bucknell now."
"You think the legend may have come from a meteor?"
"Well, meteorite. There was another legend, the Grandfather Pine....You know that one?"
"I don't think so."
I picked the book up off the shelf. All the Henry Shoemaker books are right across from my desk, which is convenient as hell. "In the olden days, the Earth loved the Evening Star. Which was probably Venus actually, but anyway. The Earth was so upset at not being able to be with the star that it cracked open, and a creek ran out---This was the Earth's pain. Don't give me that look, Kate, I don't write 'em."
Kate grinned and shrugged.
"So the Earth grew a tree, near Loganton, a huge tree, to reach to space and reach the star. It was called the Grandfather Pine. When the white men settled in the area, some warriors climbed up the Grandfather Pine to go to space, but then the loggers cut down the tree, and they never came back."
"Stranded."
"With my theory that one Shoemaker legend was caused by a meteor....ite, why not this one, too? The bit about the world breaking open and releasing a spring sounds like it could have begun with a strike. Want to look into it?"
"Yeah, I'm in. How we gonna do that?"
"We're gonna drive down to Loganton and look for it."

Sometimes it seems like I've spend half my life away from home. Work, camping, and travel add up, and I've gotten the feeling that I've spent way too much time in tents and hotels. Of course, there are other reasons to stop in a hotel. Like my daughter works the front desk.
"Hi, hon," I said. I tossed her a hat, with an alien patch on it. It looked like mine, except hers was yellow and mind was black. "Got you one, too."
"Hey! Thanks!" Biz looked it over. "I love it!"
"Well, Michelle wore mine and liked it, so I got her one. Then Paul wanted one, so I got him a pink one. And at that point, we're already that family, so I figured I'd get you and Tif alien hats, too."
"Dibs on choreographing the family pajama Christmas dance."
"Been wearing my alien hat a lot at work lately. Because of the summer reading theme, I've been spending a lot of time working on UFOs."
"Learning anything?"
If there was one person I could confide in, it was my daughter, who was also after all one of my best friends.
"....I saw something, Biz."
"Really?"
"Down near the Jay Street Bridge. A purple light."
"Seriously? Purple?"
"Been having a hard time wrapping my head around it. It wasn't a....It didn't look like a plane light, or something. More like....I don't know, more like a streak. Purple."
"What're you gonna do?"
"Been investigating. LHPS won't help me. I gotta get down there and check for radiation, electricity, the usual. I'll have to see what I can figure out."
"Alien invasion. Cool."
"Yeah, so far I'm the only person dealing with the alien invasion."
'Well, that's about right, I guess."
"I'm gonna need more coffee."

I was checking our inventory for books about UFOs. I remembered having one right behind my desk---A book about UFOs sighted in Pennsylvania. Of course it mostly featured Kecksburg, sort of the state's UFO capital, but there were other sightings, too. And of course, it was missing---Someone had stolen it. Government cover-ups. Am I right?
I saw him, the lunatic with the white robe, just for a second. He walked past the desk, and then turned and walked into the staff-only area at the back of the building, right past the sign that said PRIVATE. I dropped the ILL form and ran after him.
"Sir?" In public service, you have to be polite, even to the lunatics. "I'm sorry, this is a staff-only area."
"The guy said I could come back here."
"No, sir. I'm sorry, this is employees only."
We walked out, into the hallway, and back to the desk. he argued,"I'm allowed back there!"
"No, sir, I'm sorry. That's for employees."
"You don't say anything about that!"
"There's a sign on the door that says 'private'."
"But that's only when the door is closed----"
"No, sir, it's all the time. That's a staff-only area."
"How are people supposed to know what's back there if they can't go back?"
"If there's anything that will benefit the patron, staff will know."
"I think you're being a worry-wart."
"It's not my rule, sir." This was exhausting. "That is a private area for the employees."
"But I'm supposed to be back there."
"Sir. You are not. Allowed. Back there. I'm sorry if that offends you, but that's the rule."
He walked off, muttering to himself. Great. Now I had this lunatic on my bad side. I finished the ILL report and took it back to Mel.
"Can you get me this one?" I asked.
She glanced at the form. "Yeah, I can probably borrow it from Williamsport. Let me print out the label....What's our code?"
"Same number as our address, to make it easy to remember."
"Why would I know our address?"
"Why the hell wouldn't you know our address? You don't know the address where you work?"
"I just come here. I don't need to know the address."
"Seriously? I mean, your whole job is getting things delivered."
"I just print the label."
"What if someone has a medical emergency, and you're the one who calls the ambulance?"
"I just say the Ross Library."
"What if you really need to order a pizza?"
"I say Ross Library."
"And the delivery guy is some idiot college kid who doesn't know where that is."
"I'll tell them I'm taking my business to locals who know the area."
"Okay, I respect that. But what if you want to have something delivered from Amazon---"
"This really bugs you, doesn't it?"
"Jesus. Just get me the book."

I walked down the street with my son and my flashlight. Paul and I had taken to going out in the evening and looking for UFOs. Every night around 9:30, we'd go out and keep the neighborhood safe from aliens.
"Remember, Paul, check the skies. Look at cloud cover. Note the location of the moon and the stars. Can you tell me which way is north?"
Paul pointed. "That way?"
"Right. Good job."
"Look! Daddy! Look!" Paul pointed up at the sky, where there were a couple of flashing lights.
"I see," I said. "Do you think those might be airplanes?"
"No! They're alien ships!"
"Okay."
We walked on down the block. It was getting a little darker, and Paul shined his flashlight around the street. There was a woman sitting on her porch as we walked past, talking with a black guy.
"Hi," she said. "What are you two up to?"
"Looking for aliens," I said. "Seen any?"
"And are you hoping to see any, or....?"
"Depends on the color."
She shook her head. "Don't be silly. If aliens exist, they haven't visited us."
"You're welcome," I said.
"You guys seem to be leaving South Jones Street, where I live, wide open," commented the black guy.
"I got a daughter who lives down there," I said. "She'll call me if she sees anything."
"Right on."
We walked on up the street, back toward our house. I stopped near a neighbor's lawn, where between the houses I had a clear view to the northeast, roughly toward the Susquehanna.
"There's a light, Paul. What do you think?"
Paul squinted. "I see it, Daddy!"
It was white, and moving roughly southeast, and I was about to dismiss it as a plane. Then it took a sharp turn---Much sharper than any plane that should be out at that hour---And came due west, toward us. I watched the color change from white to orange as the light grew a bit bigger.
"Daddy?"
"Just a second, pal."
It came toward us for about another minute, then turned red, swung straight up, and disappeared into the clouds.
"What was that, Daddy?"
"Little man, I think we just saw our first genuine UFO."

I was drawing the Loch Ness Monster when Tif showed up. Paul and I were waiting for her outside in the morning sun, sketching with chalk on the sidewalk. I was using green and blue to draw an aquatic, plesiosaur-like monster, and labeling it CHALK NESS MONSTER.
"Good morning," said Tif. "You ready for story time?"
"Yeah!" said Paul. "Daddy and me saw a alien last night!"
Tif glanced at me. "Did you, now?"
"Bright light in the sky, someplace near the river----The location was a little hard to tell," I said. "Started off heading east, turned toward us, then shot up into the clouds and disappeared. Behaved oddly for anything I can think of."
"You consider some sort of military plane?" Tif asked.
"That's pretty plausible. Some kind of drone, something. There's a twelve-year gap between what the military has and what the public knows. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were looking in the direction of the National Guard base in Dunnstown; I'll have to check that."
"It seems likely."
"Don't tell Paul. No reason to spoil his good time."
"Let's go to story time!" Paul said, climbing up on the back of Tif's wheelchair.
"See you later, Dad," said Tif.
"Catch you guys in a while," I said. "Have fun."

With my coffee mug that said Bigfoot saw me but nobody believes him, I walked up the stairs in my haunted house to my office room. I sat down at the computer and brought up a map of Lock Haven.
Zooming in on South Fairview Street, I located my neighbor's house and figured out which way Paul and I had been looking the night before. We'd been facing closer to due east than I'd realized. I zoomed back out, and mentally drew a line from where we'd been standing out to the approximate location of the UFO.
It crossed right over the military base.
Tif was right. Some sort of military item that wasn't yet public knowledge. I lifted my coffee mug at the screen.
"One mystery solved," I said.

Personal Space (Part One): Close Encounters Of The Worst Kind

"We're going to play ghost hunting down at the park," said  my son Paul. "I'm bringing my equipment."
"Remember, Izzie's not allowed anymore," said Tif. She looked up at me. "The other day, they all played ghost hunter in the park. It scared Izzie so bad she didn't sleep for two nights. Her mother won't let her play it anymore."
I laughed. "For Paul, this is just what his father does for a living. In the evening, Paul and I have been coming out to his tree house to look for aliens."
"See any?"
"We differ on that."
Tif laughed, watching Paul play on his backyard play set. "Let me guess. He says yes."
"He says he's spotted them. I think it may be the cell tower across the river."
"I don't see any right now," Paul called over.
"I'm getting some UFO reports lately," I said. "You know how every summer, the state library association inflicts a theme on us? This year, it's space. So I wrote a piece on UFOs in the PA Wilds. It's been shared a lot, and I've been getting a lot of people coming forward with incidents. So I have this upswing in UFO sightings."
"Really? No kidding?"
"Oh, yeah. People are really responding to the article."
Paul walked over. "Time to go to the park. We can play ghost hunting."
"No, remember, little guy?" Tif said. "Izzie's not allowed to play ghost hunting anymore. She got too scared."
"Okay," said Paul. "We'll hunt aliens."
Tif laughed. "Well, I suppose her mother didn't actually forbid that."

Some little kids, their father goes to work, and they have no idea what he does. My dad was a farmer. Some kids hear workplace stories about lawyers, or firemen, or postal workers, or god forbid, accountants.
My son gets paranormal investigation.
I research the paranormal in the public library where I work, and then write it up in freelance articles. I give tours and speeches. For most people, the paranormal is a fun thing to watch on TV. For me, it's a career.
I biked from my place down to the grocery store on the way to work. I walked in with a handful of quarters, and went straight to the gumball machine selling fifty-cent aliens. I fed it about three bucks, getting a handful of glow-in-the-dark plastic aliens in various poses.
"It's for work," I told the cashier who was giving me a funny look.
I get to say stuff like that. And I'm not even lying.
I biked downtown, the rest of the way to the library. It was summer in Lock Haven, which means it was alternately hot, and storming like hell. I parked my bike on the little porch right outside my office, and walked in.
My friend Ian was there, putting his posters up on the bulletin board. Ian is a ranger at Kettle Creek State Park. He grinned when he saw me.
"I was going to e-mail you, Lou," he said. "You up for doing your annual speech at Kettle Creek this summer?"
"My family had a great time last year," I said. "I'm in."
"How about Dorcie Calhoun, the oil driller? Can you talk about him?"
"Sure, I can do Dorcie. When?"
"Is July sixth okay?"
"Works for me. I'll pencil it in."
I went to my desk. My predecessor had once told me that she checked her e-mail first thing every morning. I have yet to have a day  that organized. The general public won't let me.
As I was sitting down at the desk, a guy came in. He was tall and lanky, with a beard. dressed in plain white. He had what appeared to be white pajama pants and a white robe that came to his knees. I couldn't help but notice he had no belt or shoelaces. (I, in contrast, was wearing my new green shirt that said Aliens made me do it.)
"My brother stole money from me," he said with no context or introduction.
"Uh-huh," I said neutrally. It pays to not react until you find out if someone is normal, or a nut.
"You guys have a photocopier?" he asked.
I pointed. "Right there."
"Families blame people for stuff they didn't do."
"Umm."
Nut.
He walked away, turned around, and came back. "He's an atheist, can you imagine?! An atheist!"
"Umm." I'm an atheist, but I saw no good reason to get into that.
He walked away, turned around, and came back again. "There's going to be a civil war," he announced.
"I see."
"My brother should go to jail."
I nodded, making sure I was out of his reach.
"Did you hear that the state cops smuggled cocaine?"
I turned and tried to concentrate really, really hard on my e-mail.
It was a mishmash: A guy from Williamsport with a ghost sighting in a local hotel, a request for property research in an abandoned town, a note from New Boss, a UFO sighting. The usual.
I opened the one about the UFO sighting. A woman claimed to have seen a purple light in the sky on the north end of Lock Haven. She'd been driving, and suddenly, without knowing how, she wound up in Castanea Township.
"....And the government is trying to steal my blood," the guy was saying. "Hey. Are you listening?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry," I said. "Got distracted. There's been a UFO spotted nearby, a big bright one. So there's my weekend."
The guy stared at me.
"Never mind," he said, and left.
Sometimes that works.

"So....Your last day." I walked into Sue's office. She was packing up.
 Sue nodded. "Yep. Gonna retire. Mel's been trained to work the ILL department, and I'm moving to North Carolina."
"Gonna miss you." I'd worked with Sue for six years. We'd become good friends. I said,"I got you something."
I handed her a copy of Lighthouse Mysteries Of The Atlantic. She smiled. "Oooh, thanks."
We hugged each other.
"It's lighthouses, so it says you, but it's also ghosts and mysteries, so it says me, too. Hey. I'll write to you, okay? Send you pictures of Paul."
"Yeah. That'd be good."
"Yeah. Yeah."

"Dinner's almost done," I said. "Marinated pork chops, baked potatoes, and corn on the cob. Make sure you don't touch this here potato."
"I'm going to run some food down to Biz at work after dinner," said Tif.
"I saved her this specific potato," I said,"Because it's shaped like a butt."
My wife grinned. "She will love that."
We sat down to eat. Except for Paul, who was playing. There are whole days Paul insists on going without eating anything significant. I often start to wonder if his birth father was part plant, and he's existing entirely on sunlight.
"I gotta get down to my tour after dinner," I said. "Summer tours are beginning tonight."
"Is this the outer space tour?" Tif asked.
I shook my head. "Nah, that one's in July. This is Water Street. I do have a bunch of programs coming up to comply with the summer reading theme, though. Every year, the state library association inflicts a theme on us. This year's is space, so I have a whole summer full of UFOs and stuff."
"Is that why you wrote the PA Wilds article?" Tif asked.
I nodded. "I've been getting a lot of feedback. One woman e-mailed me about a bright light she saw in Loganton a while back. I think I'm going to concentrate on UFOs for a while, clear out some backlog in response to that column."
"This mean we're gonna get marched out to all sorts of remote dark places all summer?" Tif asked.
"It's likely."
"Looking for aliens from outer space."
"Hell, I think some of the library patrons are aliens from outer space. You shoulda seen the guy I had to deal with yesterday; he was odd. All in white, like a robe. And, strikingly, no shoelaces or belt."
Tif grinned. "I'm pretty sure they give you those back when you leave."
"I'm not exactly sure he left with permission." I stood up and put my plate in the sink. "I'll get that later. Right now, gotta get down to the library for my tour."
"Have fun, Daddy," called Paul. "I'm glad you're my daddy. Any other daddy would be boring."
I hugged him. "I love you, too, little man." I turned to Tif. "Gotta run; I'll be home later. Tell Biz to enjoy her ass-potato."

I arrived at the library at about six-thirty, parking my bike on the sidewalk. I was locking it up when I saw him.
The guy in white, suddenly popping up from the small porch outside my office. I hadn't spotted him up there before. He hurried down the steps and down the path---Which nobody but me ever uses, by the way, since it leads nowhere but a locked door.
"You working tonight?" he asked.
"....Sort of," I said.
Carrying a couple of bags, he hurried off down Erie Alley, heading south. I stared at him as he went.

"...And that brings us back to the Ross Library," I said, turning and stopping on the sidewalk. "Originally the home of Mayor Robert Bridgens in 1887, it was sold to Annie Halenbake Ross is 1893. Annie died in 1907, leaving her house to the city on the condition it be made into the public library. We opened on Thanksgiving day of 1910, and have been in business ever since." I looked around at the gathered crowd. "I'd like to thank you all for coming, and remind you.....The stuff I talked about tonight was just barely scratching the surface. There's a whole city full of history out there....Some great stories. I encourage you all to get out and experience them."
The crowd began to disperse. A woman walked up to me.
"I have a question," she said. "There's a building on Water Street, right across from the YMCA. It has this weird door on the third floor that leads nowhere. I mean, if you stepped out of it, you'd fall three floors to the ground. Any idea what's up with that?"
"Not yet," I said,"But I'll check it out and let you know."
I unlocked my bike and rode down to the area. It was on the corner of Water and Grove Streets, not too far from the area where I'd gotten the UFO report. I looked at the building, and saw the weird third-floor exterior door she'd been talking about.
The outside part of it, I noticed, matched the windows below. It looked to me like a former window that had been boarded up, just boarded with an unused door---After a while, you get to kind of see these things. I did a circuit around the building, and on the opposite side, there was another one, exactly the same, only that had been boarded up with actual boards. Solved.
While I was here, I looked out over the river. The sun was going down, and it was beginning to get dark.
Then I saw it.
It was just like the e-mail had described---A purple light, wiggling and streaking through the sky. I grabbed in my pack for my camera, but the thing was moving too fast, and I couldn't get a photo. There's a reason there are so few reliable photos of these things. It sort of bobbled through the sky for a minute, and then was gone.

I sat in the living room with Millie, Lacy, Kris, and Kara. We met once a month, usually at Millie's place. It was almost like a book club or a social group, except with way more ghosts.
The Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers were the county's best ghost-hunting group. We'd been meeting once a month for almost twelve years, It was the closest actual thing I had to a social life.
"Still working on fixing the bank account problem," said Millie. "Anything else?"
"How would you guys like to do a fundraiser for Highland Cemetery?" I asked. "The association met the other night, and we badly need the money. We can do a seminar and a ghost hunt actually in the cemetery. What do you think?"
I saw Millie's eyes light up. Kara said,"We can do that. When?"
"I was thinking September."
"Sounds good."
"The Spiritual Seekers are still posting stupid stuff on Facebook," I said. "I've been thinking of a few ways to deal with that, prevent them from damaging our reputation."
"What do you got?" asked Kris.
"I think we need to branch out," I said. "We're the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers, not just ghost-hunters. I think we should start following up on reports of cryptids and UFOs, too. We have techniques and information they don't have, and we should use it."
"I don't know," said Millie. "I don't think people would go for that."
"It would make us look unreliable," said Kara.
"How so?" I said. "We'd be just as scientific and skeptical, no matter what we were investigating."
"People know we're good at looking for ghosts," said Kara. "They'll think we're flaky if we start talking about aliens...."
"I never said aliens."
"Yes, you did. I just heard you."
"I never said aliens. I said UFOs. UFO doesn't necessarily mean little green men. What, talking to dead people in a dark room is okay, but we refuse to glance at unexplained lights in the sky?"
"I think it would make us look too unreliable," said Kara.
I held up my hands.
"Okay. Okay. I pitched it, you guys don't like it. Forget it."
"If we suddenly start talking about Bigfoot----"
"I've dropped it. Forget it."
Millie nodded. "Anything else?"
I got the point. Ghosts were fine. But anything else, and I couldn't count on the team.

It was dark. I sat outside on my back porch, smoking a cigar. I was less of a smoker since Paul had been born, but I still kept a supply around the house. Every once in a while, I lit one up.
A hundred and fourteen years ago, a teenaged girl had killed herself on this porch. Her name was Ida Yost. She still haunted my house; I'd researched her years ago when we'd moved in.
I had a mystery. I'd seen something, and I didn't know what. I had a genuine UFO, and no explanation.
And I was on my own.

Virginia Is For Monsters

Outside a haunted house, you would expect to be taking a few photos, maybe some recordings. You wouldn't expect to be splashing in the pool and grilling, but here we are. It's different when it's your haunted house, and you've lived there fifteen years.
I used my tongs to flip the corn on the grill, picked up my beer, and sat down beside my daughter. Tif was sitting in her wheelchair on the grass, while my son Paul was splashing delightedly in the new pool. Younger daughter Biz was sitting in a chair, talking with my wife.
"So when are you leaving?" Tif asked.
I took a drink of my beer. "Thursday morning. We should be in Virginia in seven hours or so. Thanks for watching the dogs while we're gone. Don't forget to give Kasper his pills."
'Dad. Jesus. I won't forget. What're you guys gonna go do in Virginia?"
"We're gonna see Williamsburg, Jamestown, some of the historic places. Jamestown has a cursed tree, did you know? And I figure if I get time, I'll look into Chessie, the Chesapeake Bay serpent."
"The Chesapeake has a serpent?"
"A big one. Been sighted for about a hundred years now. Michelle rented a cottage in Quiet Cove, right near the Chesapeake, so I figure it won't be too much of a stretch to take binoculars and do some water samples."
"You know you're not gonna catch a sea monster, right? You can't even swim."
"Maybe I'll bring one home on a leash. Kasper gets half a pill in the morning, a whole pill at night. I'll leave dog food out."
"Mind if I sleep over and watch your TV while you're gone?"
"No reason why not. Have a ball."
Tif looked at Paul for a moment, squirting the side of the house with his water shooter. "Lock Haven feels weird," she said. "The city never feels right with you gone."
I took another drink.
"Doesn't feel right to me, either," I said.

I looked up at King Kong, who was holding my son in his hand. Standing around me were several dinosaurs---I'd spotted an Ankylosaur and a Triceratops already, and there were more lurking around. Plus a giant octopus.
Dinosaurland, in northern Virginia, had been well worth the eight bucks a person to get in. Paul had been having a great time, pointing and running around among the sculpture dinosaurs. Michelle took a photo of him, sitting in King Kong's outstretched hand---The place wasn't exclusively limited to dinosaurs, which made it somehow cooler. Kong's other hand held a bright yellow Piper Cub, which gave me a little smile.
"This is awesome, Daddy!" Paul cheerfully declared, climbing down the ramp from Kong's hand.
"I think so, too," I said. "I'm enjoying this place. They could ask for way more than the eight bucks they charged us."
Paul ran ahead. I stopped and looked at an aquatic dinosaur, sitting by the trail.
"We're gonna try to find something like this, little man," I said. "Next stop, Quiet Cove."

"There's our cottage," Michelle said as we pulled in. She'd booked us a small place on a working farm, right on the coast of the Chesapeake. Three goats came running out to see us as we got out of the car.
"I want to go in first," said Paul. "I will tell you if it's safe."
I don't know where he gets these things. I unlocked the door and let him walk in. One quick look around, and he declared,"Safe."
I carried in our luggage. I have a slow, steady way of packing for vacations. I keep a bag partially packed at all times with stuff I always need, like toiletries and socks. As the vacation approaches, I start adding clothes and other items weeks in advance, until a few days before, I look around and realize I'm pretty much packed.
The place was nice---Basically all one small, open floorplan with a bed on one side, a small kitchen area, and a couch. I set down my bags near the couch.
Paul was running around, exploring the place. Like Daddy does. I got out my notebook to check my notes on Chessie. We had plans for Williamsburg and other places, but the water was a five-minute walk away. I was going to have plenty of time to investigate sea monsters.
"There's a trap door in the bathroom, Daddy," Paul reported as he dashed past.

We spent the first official morning in Williamsburg, walking around the historic old community. It was hot and sweaty, and Paul wore out pretty early on, so I wound up carrying him most of the day, which was easier before he weighed as much as a six-volume genealogy set.
We stopped for lunch in a tavern that was said to be haunted, but they served pizza, which made Paul very happy. A serving wench smiled at me. I treated Paul to a soda from a vending machine that served cold drinks, which cost about $3.50. We killed some time looking at stuff until that evening, when it was time to go home.
"We're going to lie down and take a nap," Michelle said. She glanced over at Paul, presently building a pillow fort on the floor by the coffee table. "At least, I am."
"Got it," I said. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk. Back in half an hour." I glanced at Paul. "When I get back, you want to help me with the color-changing paper, little guy?
"Yah!"
"Back in a bit."
I slung my crypto kit over my shoulder---A green bag with the equipment I'd need to investigate cryptids. I was wearing my Loch Ness Monster T-shirt. The cottage was tucked in back of the farm, and I walked out and around the house, to the street, and headed east. I'd memorized the map before arriving.
I hit the coast in about a quarter mile. I stood on a small marshy beach area, the waves lapping at my sneakers, and looked out at the Chesapeake. Small crabs scuttled around my feet. The South. Jesus, the South drives me nuts. It's so alive down there, and I don't mean that in a positive way. There's invariably something buzzing or slithering at you. Most of my training is specific to the American Northeast, where I can at least go for a five-minute walk without encountering twenty reptiles.
I got out a small container and got a water sample, then took several photos. The camera in my crypto kit was made for this stuff; it had an excellent zoom. Nothing guarantees you're gonna see a monster close up.
The interesting thing about Chessie is how neatly it gets around the population problem. In bodies of water, like lakes, monsters aren't going anywhere. They're stuck where they're put. So if there are reports going back a century, obviously it's not one monster, but actually a family of them. So then you have to do the math, and wonder if there's enough of a food supply to support the population, and why they're not sighted more often.
Not the case with Chessie. The Chesapeake let out to the ocean, which was a big enough space that questions of food and population were irrelevant. Most Chessie sightings were probably ocean creatures like oarfish, swimming in when they felt like it.
I stood, looking out over the bay at the very edge of the country. It always amazes me, travel. It blows my mind how all you have to do is drive forever, and you can just be someplace. Like Virginia. I wouldn't want to spend my whole life that way---Lock Haven is my home, and I always feel a little off when I'm not there. But it's good to get away.
I heard water running behind me. I turned to see that I was now on something of a sandbar that was rapidly becoming an island. The tide was coming in, and quickly cutting off my exit route as it filled in the sand behind me.
Dammit, this was another thing I never had to deal with in Lock Haven. The Susquehannna River always stayed where I'd left it. I made a mental note that 6:30 PM was about high tide.
I turned, took about three steps, and ran, launching myself over the rising water. I came crashing down on the other side, scaring hell out of twenty or so little crabs. I moved up, back to the road, the crypto kit still hanging over my shoulder, and headed back toward the cottage.

"Daddy!" Paul cried out, running to me as I walked in the door. "You're back!"
He does this every time I go someplace. I could leave for five minutes, and he'd go through the whole thing again. I hugged him. "I got a water sample, little man. Want to help me test it?"
"Yah!"
I set the sample on the counter, and got out my litmus paper---Also part of the crypto kit. I handed Paul a couple of pieces---He's never satisfied with just one---And let him dip them in the water. They immediately turned a pale shade of green.
I matched it to the chart on the packet, and it rated a seven. I said,"So what does this tell us, little man?"
"It's good water," Paul said.
"Pretty much. This water isn't too acidic or basic, and can support life."
"You want to come in my fort, Daddy?" asked Paul.
"Yeah, let's crawl in your fort."

I woke up in the night, which was about typical, as I was clinging to the edge of the bed. The bed was small and high, and initially, I'd been going to let Michelle and Paul have it, and I'd sleep on the couch. But Michelle had worried that Paul might roll off and hurt himself, and it was a valid fear, as Paul sleeps like he's trying out for the Olympics. So I was trying to sleep on five inches of bed and act as a protective bumper for my son.
I crawled out of bed, walking across the cottage in my Lake Erie monster pajamas. Lightning was flashing outside the window---We'd had a thunderstorm every single night since arriving in Virginia. I got a beer out of the small fridge and sat down by the window to watch the storm.
I missed Lock Haven. I love to travel, but I'm only good for a couple of days, and then I want to be back on my home turf. I missed my dogs. I missed Tif and Biz. I missed the library, the haunted houses, the streets I knew.
I drank some of the beer. I'd picked it up at the local Kroger, which was something of a novelty for me---In Pennsylvania, they're really picky about where you can buy alcohol. In the South, you can practically get it in vending machines.
I'd be going home soon.
In the meantime, there was still a monster to find.

It's kind of refreshing to be on a haunted tour and not be in charge of it.
Or maybe that's just me.
We arrived in the market square in Williamsburg in time for the ghost tour Michelle had booked. We sat down in the audience in a small amphitheater mostly constructed of log benches. Paul sat in the front row as a woman began talking.
"Okay, before we get started, there are a few Yagottas. Yagotta Number One: Yagotta stay quiet. No talking, no interrupting. No cell phones...."
Paul crawled across the benches back toward me. "You said I could carry your equipment, Daddy," he whispered.
"I did," I agreed. I handed him my EMF detector and my laser thermometer.
Fifteen minutes later:
"Yagotta Number Four-B: Don't step in the puddles. Don't...."
Finally, after way too long a session of going over the rules, she began talking about ghosts. She took a long time at that, too, dragging out the first story ridiculously. About half an hour after we'd started, we finally began moving and got to the second stop, under a huge, dark tree. I'd have been halfway through my tour by this point; audiences start to lose interest if you drag it out too much.
Paul leaned over toward us. "Mommy? Daddy? I had a accident."
I sighed. "Come on, little guy. Let's go."
We got up and left the tour, Paul dragging his feet dejectedly. As we walked toward the bus stop, Michelle said,"You don't look wet. Did you really?"
"Yes," said Paul.
"Really?"
"Um....No."
"Did you just make that up to get out of the tour?"
"It's a long story," said Paul
I laughed. "The tour was boring, wasn't it, little man?"
"Yeah."
"Okay," I said. "Don't lie to us again, but I like your ability to plan. Daddy gives better ghost tours than that, right?"
"Right!"
"Come on, we'll go back to the cottage. You can pet the goats."
"Can we get pizza?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, we can get pizza."
"Tomorrow, let's find something to do that Paul will enjoy," said Michelle.
I nodded. "Let's."

It was the last day of our vacation. The weather was fine in the morning, so we drove across the bridge to Yorktown and let Paul play at the beach. Paul loves the beach. He immediately ran to the water and began splashing with his new beach toys.
Michelle sat down by the edge. I stood on the sand for a while, watching my son. Then I said,"I'm gonna go walk over on the pier. I'll be in view the whole time. Back in a minute."
"Have fun," said Michelle, putting on my Bigfoot hat.
I walked down the beach to the pier. People were fishing on the end, throwing bait into the water. If you want to see a sea creature, go where the bait is. I walked along the pier, looking down at the water. Peaceful.
Then I saw something in the water.
Down below me, underwater, it was something big, flat, and light-colored. A ray? An oarfish? Chessie maybe? I couldn't tell. It was swimming fast under the water, heading northwest.
I broke into a run, dashing for the end of the pier. I was grabbing my camera from my pocket as I ran. Now I know why every damn cryptid photo is always blurry. I pulled the camera out, instinctively wrapping the cord around my wrist as I moved.
I got to the end of the pier just fast enough to click one photo, which turned out to be basically a shot of the water with a light-colored blob in it. I watched it going out, away from the pier---Chessie sightings were probably exactly what I'd just seen: Some ocean creature that came in a little too close to the shore.
And then it was gone.

There was another storm that night. I was mostly packed, sitting on the couch in my pajamas and reading a novel. It was our final night in Virginia.
Across the room, Paul slipped out of bed. He walked over, standing just beyond the coffee table, and with absolutely no introduction or context, did a dance.
He danced around for a moment, and then announced,"Pennsylvania!"
Then he came over and curled up on the couch beside me.
"That was the Pennsylvania dance," he explained.
I smiled.
"I know, little guy," I said. "We'll be headed home tomorrow."

Business Is Booming

"...This is the grave of John Meginness," I said, standing in the Jersey Shore Cemetery. "Somebody take my picture." I could hear my voice projected across the cemetery, to the gathered tour crowd. I was wearing the small speaker they'd given me to broadcast this thing. "Meginness was one of the writers and historians from the late 1800s, and he wrote histories of both Clinton and Lycoming Counties. He gave me a lot of material to work with."
I moved down the hill toward the next site. Tina and Mary, my contacts from the Jersey Shore Historical Society, walked with me as I covered the microphone. "This thing is great," I said. "I gotta get one of these for my Lock Haven tours."
"The tour is going well. Good crowd." Tina smiled. "So what else are you working on back in Clinton?"
"There have been several really loud booms in Noyes Township, east of Renovo," I said. "They were heard as far away as the next county, but there's no explanation. I'm working on an article, and trying to figure them out."
"Oh, I think I read about that one," she said. "Interesting. Any luck yet?"
"Not yet. But I just started."
I stopped at the next grave, and released the microphone. "This next stop is the only headstone in the cemetery known to be written in German. Oh, and before I forget, I'm going to apologize to all of you preemptively for anything I might say when I forget I'm wearing this thing."

"Tell me a bedtime story, Daddy."
Paul was lying in the bed in the dark room. I sat by his bedside on a small chair, pulling the blanket over my son.
"Okay, little man. How about this? I got a good one."
"I don't want one of your made-up ones," Paul said. "I want you to read me one. How about the Pennsylvania one?"
"No, wait, you're gonna love this. It's about a king."
"I like kings."
"This was a king from a long, long time ago. King Arthur. He was hurt in battle, so he went far, far away, and came to Pennsylvania."
"Where we live!"
"Yes. It's an old legend. He came to Potter County, and found a healing spring. He was healed, and lived here a long time, and then died. His men buried him in a river. Now, you're gonna like this next part. Years ago, before you were born, two people went looking for where the king was buried. And they hiked down a mountain, and across a bridge...."
"Did they find him?"
"Yeah, they found him. You know who those two people were?"
"Who?"
"Me and Aunt Biz."
Paul's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yep. That picture  of Aunt Biz that you have, is her right by the river where the king was buried."
Paul looked at the photo he had tacked to his closet door. He smiled and turned back to me.
"Tell me that again."

"Hey!" I looked up and greeted my old friend Chris, and my new assistant Morgan, who had arrived at the same time. Chris had interned for me years ago, and was now working several jobs locally. Morgan, I'd known as a toddler---I'd worked with her mother fifteen years back. Now she was ready to graduate, and doing her senior project with me. Which made me about a hundred and thirty-nine.
"I wanted to ask for some clarification on the missing mayors thing," Chris said. "Got a minute?"
"Sure. I owe Joby a nickel." I waved Morgan into the Pennsylvania Room. "Come on, kid, you might as well sit in on this."
We sat around a table. I said,"Since you're here, Chris, you gotta hear this. I just got a tip from another freelancer for the Express."
"What's this one about?" Chris asked.
"Cow genitals."
Chris stared at me. "What?"
I grinned. "On the east wall of the Simon Building is a mural advertising Bull Durham tobacco. We've all seen it like a million times. Turns out, this was a company strategy back in the old days. I'm gonna get an article out of it. The company hired four artists to travel the world, and paint these murals with the cow on them, advertising Bull Durham tobacco. The cows, however, had really visible, uh...."
"Anatomically correct," Chris suggested.
"Yeah. And of course, there was an outcry about this---People protested. So they sent the artist back to paint a fence over it, blocking the view. They'd charge more for this, and get a ton of free publicity for it."
Chris laughed.
"My source says that in Lock Haven, the fence doesn't quite cover all of it," I said. "You can still see a little bit of the cow parts. I'm gonna get a great article out of this."
"What're you going to title it?"
I thought it over. "Cock And Bull Story?"
"The editors would never let you get away with that."
"Apocalypse Cow."
"Never mind."
Morgan grinned at me. "This is awesome. I love learning about this stuff."
"There's always plenty more of it, kid," I said. "I'm always working on something."

"Did you hear, there's a fire at Notre Dame?" the woman asked me.
I looked up from my desk and nodded. "Yeah. It's all over the internet."
"Did you see? The Lock Haven Express ran a photo of Notre Dame as their Photo of the Day," she said. "They picked it before the place started burning. Isn't that a weird coincidence? It's kind of creepy!"
I sighed. A landmark burns in Paris, and I get questions about psychic phenomena. That sounds about right.
"Not so much as you might think." I stood up and walked over the the newspaper rack, and got the day's Express. I opened it to the right page and laid it down on the shelf. "See, if you read this caption, they chose this photo because of construction currently being done on Notre Dame. It's that same construction that started the fire. So it's not really as big a coincidence as all that; the photo and the fire came from the same root source."
She nodded. "Well, that makes me feel better about it."
"Glad I could help." I picked up my phone as she walked away, and got one of the oil campanies on the line. I was talking to them when my daughter walked in a few minutes later.
"So, you're saying you don't know how the sound happened? Okay, that makes sense. Thanks for your time, sir."
I hung up the phone and turned to see Biz standing by my desk at the library. "Hi, hon. How's it going?"
"Had a little time between classes. What're you working on?"
"The loud booms in Noyes," I said. "They were heard all the way down here, but it's a mystery. I'm making some calls, digging into it."
"Noyes Township." Biz laughed. "I see what you did there. What have you ruled out?"
"Well, the gas companies deny any involvement," I said. "Which makes sense when I think about it. If the gas wells had caused a boom that could be heard thirty miles away, there would have been emergency vehicles and stuff involved. It would have been impossible to hide. So I can rule them out.  Also my contact in the college geology department says there's no record of recent seismic activity. I'm thinking a sonic boom from a military plane, but for some reason, I'm having a hard time getting the military to return my calls."
"Imagine that. What else is new?"
"Well, also working on a Bigfoot sighting in Beech Creek," I said. "Someone sent me a photo of the track. Check it out." I brought it up on my computer, and she leaned over and took a look. "What do you think?"
"I'd guess a hoax."
"How come?"
"The print is very even, as if it was put there deliberately. All the edges are really clear. Real bipedal prints are kind of mushy around the sides, because bipeds roll their feet as they walk. You taught me that."
"Correct. That's my take on it, too." I closed out the photo. "I told Paul last night about that time we found King Arthur's grave. He loved that story."
Biz laughed. "I was, what, about fifteen? That was fun."
"It was."
"Hey, Dad, I hate to ask....But my paycheck was a little short this week. Can I have a few dollars to help out?"
I gave her a twenty from my wallet. "Here you go, hon."
She leaned over and hugged me more than I'd expected. "Thanks. You're better to me than my biological father ever was."
"Worth it, hon. I remember when you were a kid, coming over for the weekend to grab a shower and a meal because your father drank all the bill money. Paul actually loves that the room was yours and Tif's before he was born."
Biz smiled. "He's adorable."
"He knows that."
"I better get to class," she said. "Good luck on your boom noise."
"I'll keep you updated."

Once a month, I meet with some teenagers in the Sloan Room. They're my group, Teen Paranormal. I teach them how do investigate cool things like ghosts and Yetis. I had Chris there, and several of the teens.
Don't look at me like that; it's my job.
"So that's the method to finding buried treasure," I said. "Now, in your handout is an article I wrote about some lost Civil War gold from last year. They never did find it, so it's still out there somewhere. I'd like you guys to read the article, and tell me what you notice about it."
As the kids read, I spread four government topographic maps out on the table. "When you're done, let's see if we can figure out where this gold most likely is."
Alex looked over the map. "So they were going to Lock Haven, and the article says they passed through Emporium and Saint Marys. But then, people are looking in Dent's Run? That doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly---They were going east, but then turned due south. It's way off course. So what's a more likely location to find it?"
Aubree pointed at the map. "Here's Round Island, mentioned in the article. Around there?"
I was rather proud of her for this. "Possibly. They'd have been sticking close to the Susquehanna; it's a pretty good bet. What else do you notice?"
"The survivor mentioned burying the treasure near a big rock," Aubree said. Alex rolled his eyes. She continued,"I know, Pennsylvania's full of them. Wouldn't that mean it would have to be a really big, noticeable rock?"
"Ah, you got it," I said. "And there is one very near Round Island. Right about here. Chris, you got your phone? Show them Altar Rock."
Chris brought up the photo of the tall, odd-looking rock outcropping. I said,"This has always been my suspicion. Altar Rock is very noticeable, even among other rocks. It's in the right area for the trip. Unfortunately, that means that they probably built Route 120 right over it, and I'd never be able to get to it."
Alex laughed. "Unless you had a metal detector."
"Hell, even then. There's been a lot of stuff dropped in that area over the years. A little south, about here..." I poked at the map, and then stopped.
"Lou?" said Aubree.
"Project Ketch," I said softly.
"What's that?"
"Back in 1967, there was a government program to create a gas well by setting off a nuclear bomb in Sproul State Forest," I said. "Due to protests, it didn't last, but they started production. This could be the answer to something else I've been working on, the loud boom noises out west of Renovo."
"You think nukes may be finally going off?" asked Chris.
"Or the dynamite they used to create the hole," I said. "Or something."
"What're you going to do?"
"I gotta call Sproul State Forest in the morning."

Morning. UFO T-shirt. Coffee in my Bigfoot travel mug. At my desk, I grabbed a topographic map, a notepad, and my cell phone, and retreated upstairs to the Sloan Room. I dialed Sproul State Forest and got the head ranger on the line.
"Hey, this is Doug."
"Hi, Doug. This is Lou---I'm a freelance writer with the Record---"
"Oh, I know who you are."
I will never get used to that. "Well, good, that'll make this easier. I have a couple of weird questions for you."
"Been the week for 'em. Why stop now?"
"Are you familiar with Project Ketch?"
"Sure. Government thing to make a gas well with a nuke back in, what, sixty-four? Sixty-five?"
"Sixty-seven," I said. "Has anyone been out to the site recently? Any activity out there?"
"Nah, we'd know it," he said. "Nothing going on out that way."
"I'm trying to run down possibilities for the loud boom sounds people have heard this year."
"Probably fighter planes in the low-fly zone," Doug said. "Happens all the time."
"So there is a low-fly zone over Sproul?"
"Oh, yeah, we get military planes out of State College up here breaking the sound barrier all the time. I've seen F-4s, F-5s, Raptors, Ospreys...."
"That may answer my question. It was one possibility, but I couldn't get the military to pick up the phone."
"Not surprised."
"Hey, thanks a lot," I said. "This probably solves this one for me. Case closed."

I walked downstairs, my new glow-in-the-dark Jersey Devil shirt on. Adam was working the front desk as I checked in. "Hey, Adam."
"Hey, Lou. You got a few calls today. One guy wants to set up a program. Got a call from a woman who wants information on her house. And a package came in for you from the Jersey Shore Historical Society."
"Thanks." I opened my mailbox and got out the small box. Inside, there was a small speaker system with a headset, and a card.
Compliments of the Jersey Shore Historical Society.
I smiled.
"Well, I'll be able to make some noise with this," I said. "When's my next tour?"

No Dues Is Good Dues

I was working on an article for the PA Wilds. It involved over a hundred guys, and several tons of dynamite.

"That's what it took to build the Bucktail Scenic Highway," I told Glenn and Claudia. They're two of the library regulars, and friends of mine. "It was said to be impossible before they actually did it. It used between one to four hundred men, new heavy-duty equipment, and five tons of dynamite."

Glen, an architect, frowned. "Five tons? That sounds low...."

"Might have been more....Wait...." I looked over the old newspaper clipping I had in a folder. "Fifty tons. Fifty tons of dynamite."

"Ah, that sounds better."

"Yeah, my dynamite-judging abilities aren't so great," I said. "It's been a while."
We laughed. Claudia said,"Happens to all of us."

They went to look for books. A guy came to the desk. "Did I hear you say you're a paranormal investigator?" he asked.

I looked him over. Old guy, gray hair. He had a button-down shirt, and a fishing hat that sat on top of his head as if he'd dropped it there and forgotten it. People recognized me as a paranormal investigator several times a week, and it's always the same question. Is he a nut, or reliable?

"Yes, sit. I investigate, and write about unexplained things."

He nodded. "I had two uncles that died in the Philadelphia Experience."

Nut.

"Really?" I said politely. You have to be a little careful with the nuts.
"Yep. They were in the ship when it disappeared....You know this story? A ship vanished and reappeared in---"
"Virginia."
He nodded. "Virginia. When it came back, my uncles were fused into the ship. My mom got a letter from the Navy, saying they were MIA. The government was covering it up."
"Give me their names," I said. "I'll look into it."

I wouldn't have even had the conversation. But it was Tuesday night.
Tuesday nights are really, really slow. Like "There's more excitement in a cemetery" slow. When I walked in the back room, I found Zach sitting with his feet up on his desk, drinking tea and playing a game on his phone.
"Yeah, I'm real busy," he said.
"You're not gonna get any crap from me," I told him. "It's so slow I just spent half an hour looking into the Philadelphia Experiment."
He squinted at me. "Not up to your usual standards. Wasn't that mostly made up?"
"Yeah. The story is that in 1943, the USS Eldridge disappeared and reappeared in Virginia before teleporting back to Philadelphia. Supposedly it killed soldiers and drove them crazy, However, the whole thing was pretty much made up by one guy. A man named Carlos Allende started sending mail to a UFO writer, insisting that this was the result of a government experiment that went wrong. Documents show that the Eldridge was actually nowhere near Philadelphia at the time."
"So what's your interest?"
"Got a guy who claims he lost two uncles in the incident. Which can't be literally true, but hell, it's a slow night."
"So you're gonna look into it."
"I'll see what I can find out."

"My wife has us booked for a night hike at Bald Eagle State Park. There have been some Dogman sightings in the area."
I can't believe I get to say sentences like that.
I was sitting between Kara and Millie. Across the table, Ashlin and Lacy were checking their notes. It was the monthly LHPS meeting, our gathering of ghost hunters and my only real attempt at a social life.
"Dogman?" asked Lacy.
"Yeah, dogs and wolves that run around on their back legs," I said. "They're half dog and half human....Kinda like the Mothman, or the Goatman."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"I'm kind of self-educated."
"I'll get to my dues," Millie added. "I forgot the money tonight."
"So did I," I admitted. "Which brings me to something like eight months in the hole. I'll settle up next time."
Lacy grinned at me. "Or not."
Kara looked at her phone. "I'll get in touch with the client on Water Street. What else do we have?"
"The Spiritual Seekers got thrown out of Wildwood Cemetery for trespassing," I said. "Remember, that group I had to ream out for plagiarizing my work? They got caught trying to get in there at night."
"Good," said Ashlin.
"A couple of our cameras are going bad," said Kara. "We need to look into getting more."
"Theresa ordered the last ones, and she's on leave," Millie pointed out. "If she decides to quit entirely, we're going to need a new member."
"And a new president," commented Kara.
"Lou's the next one in line," Millie said.
I stood up. "Hey, we don't have to do it that way. We should really consider an election----"
"Lou is fine by me," said Kara.
Ashlin and Lacy were nodding. I said,"Hey, no, I don't need to just....No hard feelings if we want to choose someone else...."
"Lou," said Millie,"It should be you."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I said. "Ashlin, where do we stand on the Brawn House?"

I was going through the cemetery records when the mail came. I'd found the grave of only one of the uncles----A soldier named Johnson, buried in Dunnstown. I was going through obits, so it was a normal day until I got my government documents in the mail.
I was at my desk, looking over them, when Millie came in.
"Finding anything?" she asked.
"About what I expected."
"Got a minute?" she asked.
"Sure. These are Navy records from 1943; they can wait. What's up?"
She set a page down on my desk. "I was going over our bank account. We're down the thirty-one dollars."
I looked it over. "What the hell? I thought we had like six hundred dollars in there."
"Me, too. We've been talking about what new equipment to get."
"What are all these charges? Small amounts at a time, over the course of months. I think we've been hacked."
Millie nodded. "We don''t use the account too much, which is why we didn't notice immediately. The bank won't do anything unless you contact them within sixty days."
So I'm the new leader? Okay. Time to lead.
"Talk to the bank," I said. "I'll contact Theresa and see if she can explain this. We'll hold off on our dues, or take them in cash until further notice. We may have to close the account and reopen a new one; we'll discuss that at the next meeting."
"We may not get the money back," said Millie.
"Maybe not, but that doesn't matter," I said. "We can accumulate our dues and make it up in a month. Forget the cash, Millie. They didn't get us."

"Daddy!" My son came running down from the elevator,. wearing his Lego pajamas, new Lego hat, My Little Pony socks, glittery boots, and seven different superhero sweatbands. The usual.
I gave him a hug. My daughter came in behind him, in her wheelchair. Paul said,"How is your work going?"
"Pretty good, little man. Busy. I'm sorting these books for the book sale. What are you up to?"
"We went to lunch! Now we are going to the park!"
"Well, that's cool."
Tif looked over my stack of books on the counter. "Anything good?"
"By sheer coincidence, I found this one." I picked up a hardcover about the Philadelphia Experiment.
"Isn't that the one you've been looking into? The hoax?"
"That's the one. Guy says his uncles died in the Philadelphia Experiment, and it was covered up. Never saw any documentation, just heard all about this from many family members. Which makes me question just how good a cover-up this actually was, if the whole family talked about it all the time."
Tif grinned. "Any progress?"
"I ran the names against the military lists of soldiers who served in World War II. No matches---They aren't recorded as either killed or missing in action. I found one of the uncles, in fact, buried in Dunnstown Cemetery, where he's been since he died in 1974. Which makes him unlikely to have been fused into the Edlridge in 1943. Oh, and I ordered up the declassified files on the Eldridge. It was in New York, nowhere near Philadelphia when this whole thing was said to have happened."
"What're you gonna tell the guy?"
"The truth. Once I get all my evidence together. Of course, he's not gonna buy it---He'll accuse me of being part of the cover-up; the conspiracy bananas always do. But I can only do just so much."
Paul looked at my name tag. "L....O....U. That spells Daddy."
I laughed and hugged him. "That's right, little man."
"I want a comic book with Robin and Batman together."
"Come on, buddy. Let's go find one."

You have to wonder what's gone wrong with your life when a significant portion of it is spent in cemeteries.
The wind was blowing strongly as I walked across the Dunnstown Cemetery. I was wearing my blue sweatshirt with Bigfoot and UFOs on it, and carrying the photocopy I'd made of the cemetery index. I'd made sure to bring it along; I'd learned that the hard way.
I spotted the Johnson monument from thirty feet away---It was on a near corner of the cemetery, one large stone with the name on it. The family graves were clustered around it, but I didn't need to pick through them---I could see the little flags gathered around the World War II veteran.
I knelt by his grave. DALE JOHNSON, 1974.
Which made him somewhat unlikely to have been killed in a top-secret government experiment in 1943.

It ended the way it began---On a slow Tuesday night.
I'd been just dashing off an e-mail to Resurrection Casey. She was looking into a haunted building in Carbon County, and I was explaining how to handle that, with the caveat that she shouldn't be trespassing, or at least not get caught. The guy came in around the same time, and sat down at a table. Looking over at me across the room, he said,"You find anything online about the Philadelphia Experience? Like, on Google, maybe?"
"Well, that's not really the way I work, sir." I sat down across from him. "I use documents and hard evidence, not online stories. I've done some digging." I laid out the papers on the table. "There's no easy way to say this. The Philadelphia Experiment was a hoax. It never really happened. These are the ships' logs from that day; they show the Eldridge was in New York at the time, nowhere near Philadelphia. I checked the lists of soldiers killed or missing in action, and the names you gave me never appear."
"But that's not right," he said. "They sent my mom a letter saying that my uncles were missing in action."
"Do you have proof? Did you ever see this letter? Or just hear about it?"
Long pause.
"I found one of your uncles buried in Dunnstown, since 1974. Which means he definitely survived past 1943. Here's the cemetery record."
"Well, there was a cover-up---"
"Must have been a pretty bad one, considering your whole family knew about what actually happened."
"They got to you," he said. "Somehow, the government got to you. What did they do, pay you off?"
"Right, tons of money. That's why I'm still working the slow shift and doing articles about gravity hills."
"Somehow, they got to you," he said. "You're part of the cover-up."
"I'll leave these documents with you," I said. "You can debate this with the documents. But that's what I've found out."
I returned to the desk, sitting down at the computer.
Zach walked by. "What're you up to?"
"I'm searching for information about Dogman sightings," I said. "It's Tuesday night."