Nobody Doesn't Like SaraLee

"Would you mind autographing this?" The man held my book out. I smiled and took it, sitting at the table in the library.
"Sure. What's your name?"
"Make it to Randy and Sue."
"You got it." I scribbled To Randy and Sue, Best Wishes! Lou in the book and handed it back. Someone pointed a camera in my direction, and I held up a copy of my book and smiled.
Record scratch.
Freeze frame.

Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got in this situation.
I'd been working on the book for literally years. Back in 2012, I'd been offered the book contract on the same day I'd lost a previous job. The supervisors of Wayne Township had offered to pay me to write a book on the history of their area, and I'd worked on it for quite a while. I'd actually long since fallen out of love with the project, but it had just recently been published, and I was holding a book signing at the library.
"So why did you choose Wayne Township?" asked a woman. "What was so special about it?"
"Well, they paid me," I said. "But there's also a lot of neat history out there. Some cool legends, and some mysteries. It's really a fascinating place."
She smiled. "Will you sign mine?"
"Sure," I said.

"Who the hell knocks on a library door?"
It took me a moment to figure out where the knock was coming from. Not from the main entrance, but from the emergency door behind my desk. I walked over and opened it. A woman was waiting outside in the cold---Short, dark hair, looking kind of unfocused, as if nothing that happened was taking any sort of permanent hold on her. I could smell alcohol on her, the sort of entrenched scent of a really heavy drinker.
"That's the guy I want to see!" she said cheerfully, stepping inside. "People told me I should talk to you. I'm very spiritual."
"Have a seat." I dragged a chair out of the reference room for her.
She sat down and dropped a thick scrapbook on my desk.
"You're the guy in the newspapers," she said, as if just now discovering it.
"That's me."
"I been told to talk to you. I'm very spiritual. I have stuff that'll blow your mind."
She opened the scrapbook. The first page held some photos of, apparently, shadows on a wall.
"This was impossible," she said. "It had to be spirits. There's no way this could have happened. Do you see it?"
"I'm not sure what you want me to see."
"You can't see the ghosts unless you have the same vision as me. Give me your glasses."
"I'm good."
The next page was my most recent article, about the Griffin House. She looked up at me, apparently losing her train of thought. "So they come to you?"
"Ghosts, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"Not really, no. I wait for someone to contact me with a report, and then go check out the property."
"....I don't understand."
I took a deep breath. "When someone believes their house to be haunted, they call me. I go and investigate, and try to find the truth."
"How do you do that, if they don't come to you?"
"Well, with my team, it's all about proof. We're looking for something provable and measurable."
"....I don't understand."
I saw Mel at the desk, watching with considerable amusement. Zach turned and fled for his office.
Another deep breath. "We take photos, audio recordings, measure temperature and electricity, and check the history of a property, looking for the truth."
"How do you do that?"
"Well, we use cameras and recorders, and instruments to measure. The point is proving what we find."
"....I don't understand. People told me I should talk to you." She looked around the room. "How do I get a library card?"
"We can sign you up with an ID with the current address."
"Wow. I gotta sign up sometime. Which way did I come in?"
"Let me walk you out. I can point you in the right direction."
I walked her to the lobby, where she said,"Whoa. What's that?"
"That's the main doors."
"That's a side street."
"No, ma'am, that's Main Street."
"No way."
"I promise."
"How long you worked here now?"
"Almost eight years."
"Wow. People told me I should talk to you. I'm very spiritual."
She headed off down the street. I walked back inside, where Mel was now laughing.
"On my self-evaluation, I said I needed to be more patient," I said. "That was a good start."
"You did good," she said.

Sometimes you get the nuts. It happens when you're a paranormal investigator.
My name is Lou. I work for the local library, which is how everyone knows where to find me. I also write a column for the newspapers, mostly about local history. And I do paranormal investigation. I'm the leader of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers, but I also have something of an independent career. I look into ghosts, creatures, and old legends, trying to find scientific explanations.
Sometimes this leads me to prizes, interesting adventures. Sometimes, it brings the insane people to me, ranting about crazy stuff. Usually, it's fascinating.
You know what they say. If you love your job, you'll never work a day in your afterlife.

"So," I asked as we left the house,"What do you think?"
SaraLee looked over at me as we walked down the sidewalk. "The client seems credible. I got some feelings in the front room, near where she said the hot spots were."
"We'll talk about it at the next meeting," I said. SaraLee was the new member of LHPS, one we'd just recently picked up. It was her first intake interview, though we'd investigated her place in the past.
"Hey," SaraLee said. "So I know your feelings about psychics and mediums, and that you don't believe in them. But I have this feeling....a vibe that you don't want me in LHPS. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's what I'm getting."
I sat back in the car seat, and sighed.
"If I gave you that impression, Sara, I'm sorry," I said. "I can be an asshole sometimes, usually without realizing it. Look, my main problem comes down to proof. I work real hard to do the historic research and prove what I say. Meanwhile, some people will claim to have a feeling and expect me to take it on faith. Some people claim to hear voices, which any mental patient could do. But I'm looking forward to working with you, Sara, and you're one of us."
"I'm looking forward to it, too," she said. "Just not the paperwork. I just wanted to make sure I'm not forever feeling like the girl who's not wanted on the team."
"You have time to have a cup of coffee or something? My treat," I said. "I'd like to sit down and talk."
"That'd be great," she said. "I had a premonition of that."

So two paranormal investigators walk into a coffee shop....
"Coffee," I said to the cashier. "Black and extra large. Like my kid."
SaraLee smiled. "Hot chocolate for me." It was almost eight PM, but I'd long since built up an immunity to the effects of caffeine. She dug into her bag and got out a book.
"By the way," she said,"I brought you a present." She slid it across the table to me.
"In The Seven Mountains," I said. By Henry Shoemaker! Sara, where did you get this? I don't have this one yet!"
She smiled. "I knew you liked Shoemaker."
"It's got Pipsisseway's Pine.....Wow." I tore myself away from the book. "I have something for you, too." I slid an LHPS button across the table to her. "Until you get a uniform, this will do. You know our little ghost symbol is named Henry, after Henry Shoemaker?"
She smiled. "I remember that from the fundraiser in Highland Cemetery last September. So what's up with you and the psychics? Tell me all about your worldview."
"Okay. You work at, what, Sam's Club? I'd imagine you know the job. Maybe even know some of the more common prices. Now, imagine someone comes in and claims all your prices are wrong. They can't prove it. They don't work there. But they insist you're wrong, and you have to just blindly believe that, and they say they know better than you."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I can see that. Just so you know, I don't claim to talk to ghosts or anything....Sometimes I just feel things. I use my body as an instrument, the way you take measurements."
"Look, Sara, I never wanted you to feel unwelcome," I said. "I admit I had reservations. But you're smart and you've been active, and that's what really matters, especially since Kara and Lacy left the team. You're on the team, which means that I might fuck with you, but nobody else gets to."
She smiled and drank some of her hot chocolate.
"We've had problems with another team that claims to be psychic," I said. "After I told the owner of the Kistler House that her place wasn't on the Underground Railroad, she went and found a team that would tell her what she wants to hear. They claim to have had discussions with the ghosts of escaped slaves, in spite of I can prove the place wasn't built at the time."
"That old Victorian---?"
"Yeah, it was built about 1889. So the owner has run around town telling everyone I'm wrong. It would be damaging my career if my reputation wasn't already pretty solid. So, I mean, it's that kind of thing, you know? Drives me crazy."
"I can see why," said Sara. "I'd like to learn about the history research, how to prove these things."
"I can go with you sometime down to the Bellefonte Courthouse," I said. "Teach you how to do this. We can look up the research on your place."
She smiled. "I'd like that."

We walked out onto Bellefonte Avenue. "Oooh, it's snowing," SaraLee said.
"Hey," I said. "Are we good?"
Sara smiled.
"Yeah," she told me. "We're good."

Here's The Thing

"I'll be right back, Barb," I told my co-worker at the desk. "Gotta run out and get a water sample."
She nodded.
"For work-related purposes," I assured her.
"Okay," she said.
There is a certain freedom that comes when nobody cares what you're doing. Nobody is interested enough to keep tabs on me. I went outside, got my bike, and biked down Second Street to the Susquehanna River.
In the early nineties, the city built a dike along the river to prevent flooding. It works, but it also meant I had to climb all the way up, and then down the other side. The river side is covered with rocks, and I had to watch where I placed my feet.
I had a bad moment when one of them shifted and I almost went down, but I caught my balance and made it to the bottom. There was a flat area down by the river that looked safe, so I walked down and knelt by the river.
I was wearing my sweatshirt that said "Yeti For Action" and my black jacket with the adventure equipment concealed in it. I got out a sample container and dipped it into the water, getting a few ounces for testing.
You think being a paranormal investigator is all screaming in haunted houses? No, there's a lot of actual science involved. You have to take samples, you have to figure things out, and you have to learn things.
Standing up, I looked it over. Then I screwed the cap back on.
Back to work.

My name is Lou. I work at the local library. As you may have guessed by this point, I'm also a paranormal investigator.
You say the word paranormal, and people immediately think ghosts. But that's only part of it. Investigating the paranormal also covers UFOs, cryptozoology, psychic activity, and other fields. I do it all.
I also run a group at the library, called Teen Paranormal. We meet once a month. I have a very enthusiastic bunch of kids who come every month, and I teach them how to investigate a different topic each time.
That's me.
Teaching the students of today how to deal with the dead people of tomorrow.

"Allright, guys," I said to the kids,"Tonight we work on water monsters."
The weather outside the Sloan Room was horrible, but three of the Teen Paranormal kids had made it to the meeting. I gave the handouts to Devon, Olivia, and Austin, and set our water samples on the table.
"The interesting thing about water monsters is that you're definitely on their territory," I said. "I mean, you can try to follow Bigfoot back to his lair. You can't do that with a water monster. You'll run out of air long before it does. Can you guys give me any examples of a water monster?"
"Loch Ness," Devon said immediately.
I grinned. "You're right. That's the big one. Also, it's on my sweatshirt. There are others, including locally---I've investigated the Susquehanna Seal up in Kettle Creek. I'm going to look for one this weekend, in Lewisburg. Gonna sneak out during my wife's company holiday party."
"Your wife's company has the holiday party in January?" asked Devon.
"Yeah, they seem to figure it's too busy around the actual holidays,' I said. "This will give me something to do instead of socializing with her co-workers."
"You gonna let us know how it goes?" asked Olivia.
"Course I will," I said. "The monster is called the Susquehanna Mystery Thing, and it's been sighted around that area. I'm gonna check into it, maybe try to bait it, and test some water samples. Which is what I want to show you tonight."
I opened the containers on the table. "You guys ever use litmus paper before?"
"I think...in Biology," said Devon.
"Two of these are samples of acids and bases," I said. "The other two are samples I got from the Susquehanna River and the Chesapeake Bay, where I've investigated a monster named Chessie. You guys are going to test them to see if they'll support life." I got out the litmus paper. "Don't hesitate, this stuff comes in hundred-packs for about $3.50. Who wants a chance?"

The Lewisburg Children's Museum was a neat place; you could tell that right from the front doors. Paul and his Cub Scout pack ran around looking at the sculptures, one of which resembled a large box of crayons. My wife looked at my outfit.
"Is that what you're wearing to the party tonight?" she asked.
I looked down at my black sweatshirt with the ghost on it. "I thought so."
"I expected something a little more....I don't know...."
"Look, Mom," said Tif. "It's a clean black sweatshirt. His bandanna is black. His sneakers are leather. This is formal wear, for him."
I saw Barenda arrive, and went over to talk to her.
"How's Koti?"
"She's doing okay," said Barenda. "Feeling better now."
"Tell her I'm pulling for her," I said. "I'll send the water monster handout from work."
"Cool. I'll print it out for her."
"I'm going to look into a water monster tonight," I said. "We're staying in Lewsiburg for my wife's company party. Gonna sneak away and check for the creatively-named Susquehanna Mystery Thing."
Barenda laughed. "Not in a party mood?"
"Socializing isn't always my thing. I'm more of a catch-the-monster kind of guy."

After the museum trip with the Cubs, we checked into the hotel. I'd been studying maps of Lewisburg---I never go anywhere without getting familiar with the geography---And I knew where a pond was to collect a water sample. I picked up my small crypto kit, a smaller, pocket-sized version of the usual shoulder bag, and I said I was going out to look for monsters. As one does.
I stopped at the hotel's computer to send a message to the kids, letting them know I was starting the investigation. I immediately got back messages of encouragement from Aubree and Kayla.
It was a pleasant day out. I left the hotel and walked downhill and around to the pond, which was very near Route 15. The source came from the river and was part of the same water table, so the tests should be effective. As I crossed the grass, a goose came hissing at me.
Dammit. Goose. I have investigated ghosts, monsters, and once a vampire, but geese are a Lovecraftian horror. In the sky, geese are majestic examples of airborne beauty. On the ground, they are nasty feathered buckets of psycho. I ran at it, waving my arms, and he backed off reluctantly. I walked down to the pond's edge, dipping a sample container in the water.
The dumbest thing you can do, when you want to investigate the paranormal, is to run right out and try to do it with no experience or education. I've known people who do that, and it's always a disaster. It's why I teach the kids. You need some sort of basic knowledge of several fields---Chemistry, biology, astronomy, history, forensics. I'm not an expert in any of that, but I know enough to apply it to the paranormal effectively.
I stood up and capped it. As I walked up the hill, I saw him again---The goddamn goose was coming back, and he'd brought three of his friends. I could handle one goose maybe, but not four of them.
I ran. I ran back across the grass and into the parking lot, the geese chasing me and hissing. They stopped at the edge of the grass, which apparently was their territory. I walked back to the hotel and let myself into the room.
"How'd it go?" Tif asked.
"Geese," I said.
"You saw geese?"
"Goddamn geese chased me away from the pond."
Tif laughed. "Geese are terrifying."
"I told you I didn't want to catch anyone spiking their drinks tonight," my wife said. "What the hell is this?"
She held up my flask, with an alien head and my name on it. I'd filled it with bootleg whiskey.
I said,"That could be anybody's monogrammed alien flask."
"We have a very strict rule about the alcohol," said Michelle. "Two per person. We're handing out the tickets."
"But you have access to extra tickets, right?"
"Not this year. April handled the tickets."
"Two beers? You lured me here under false pretenses."
"Can we do the color-changing paper, Daddy?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, let's do it," I said. "I got a sample."
I set the water sample on the bathroom sink and handed Paul a piece of litmus paper. He dipped it in and tested it. "Green," he said.
We lined it up against the chart, and I said,"Looks like a seven. You think?"
"Yeah. Seven. This green one."
"That means the pond can support life. That works."
"Can we do it again?"
"Want to test your Cherry Coke?"
"Yeah!"
I got Paul's bottle of Cherry Coke and poured a small amount into the cap. He dipped the litmus paper into it, and it immediately turned a deep shade of red.
"Holy crap," I said.
"This one matches," said Paul, looking at the chart.
"That's a three," I said. "This stuff is way more acidic than I'd thought."
"Are you ready to go to the party?" Michelle asked.
"Yeah, I guess I'm ready," I said. "Let's make a stop on the way. I wanna throw Cherry Coke on some geese."

I waited until the party was in full swing before I slipped out. My wife is the head of the Social Committee, which meant she was going to be fairly busy running things. It wasn't much of a challenge for me to snag my jacket and duck out the side door, taking a walk down to the river.
I wasn't too concerned about the two-beer limit. They'd tried to place a limit at every one of these office parties, and given tickets out to enforce it. Almost instantly, an underground black market in tickets had always sprung up, with way more tickets circulating than expected. I wouldn't have too much of a problem getting an extra beer if I really wanted to.
I got down to the water's edge. I'd filched a piece of chicken from the buffet before I'd slipped out, for investigative purposes. I tied a piece of string around it, tied the other end to a tree branch, and let it slip into the water. Bait.
I got out my night vision binoculars and scanned the river. I didn't see anything, not yet. It was a warm night out, which was good---There's not much point in investigating water monsters when everything's frozen over. I took out a second sample container and dipped it full of river water, then walked back up to the party.
Several people were standing outside and smoking. I set the sample on a post and uncapped it, at which point one of my wife's co-workers came up and said,"Hey, whatcha got? You know they're limiting us to two beers?"
He grabbed the sample and drank it, tossing it back like a shot.
"Hey---"
"That's smooth," he said. "You got any more of that?"
"Not on me. But I know where I can get some."
I walked back down to the river.
The bait was gone. Water monsters apparently will eat chicken. Or maybe geese will. I got another sample, and this time tested it on the spot by flashlight. It was an eight---Very slightly alkaline, but not enough to make a difference to anything living there. I walked back up to the party. The guy was still out smoking. At least I knew the river water wasn't poisonous.
Michelle was still arranging the party handouts. I sat down at our table with her co-worker Mary.
"How have you been, Lou?" Mary asked. "How's Paul?"
"He's good," I said. "Five now. He's in kindergarten, and he loves it."
"Catch any ghosts lately?"
"A few. Actually, I'm looking into a water monster....You live in this area, right? You ever hear any stories about a huge creature in this area? It's known as the Susquehanna Mystery Thing."
"No, I haven't heard that," she said. "But there are some big animals living in the river. My son caught a eel that had to be four feet long at least."
"There are eels in the Susquehanna? It could be eels. Most of the sightings are from fishermen, and they could easily be spotting some eels that are bigger than expected."
"That could be," said Mary.
I nodded and stood up.
"Well, I'll be back in a minute," I said. "I think it's time to get a beer."

Never Brought Tomb Mind

I opened my eyes to hear a retching sound next to me on the bed. It took a moment to register, and then suddenly I was wide awake and my brain was on full red alert, just a moment too late. I sat upright just in time to see our tiny pug, Gwen, vomiting on the bed.
"Uh," I said, getting out of bed. "Welcome to 2020."
First workday of the new year.

"War! Hunh!" I sang as I scanned a book at the desk. "What is it good for? Making an exhibit! Uh-huh!"
Adam looked over at me as I grabbed the books and an old World War I helmet, and headed for the gallery. "How's the display coming along, Lou?"
"Looking good," I said. "We got posters up from the Smithsonian, artifacts that have been in the attic since about 2017, and all sorts of good stuff going in. A World War I exhibit---Great way to start the new year."
I carried the stuff down and filled up the display cases, then stopped to take a look around the room. The gallery looked great. I was happy with the stuff. The last time I'd done World War I, I'd gotten wrapped up in a mystery about an African-American soldier. This time, I was hoping for a nice, easy month.
Tracey was there when I got back to the desk. I said,"Tracey, I know how I get and I always drive you nuts with these things. I currently have an awesome exhibit and a history question that looks intriguing. So I'm going to apologize in advance for all my behavior for, say, the rest of the month."
Tracey laughed. "Happy New Year. A history question, huh?"
"Guy wants to know about the Dennison Family Cemetery. It's up in Noyes Township somewhere, but we're not sure where. The Genealogical Society has it placed on the south side of the river, downstream from Keating, but notes that it's not accessible except by boat, and there are no known visible graves."
Tracey looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I remember the days when this library just gave out books," she said.
With the gallery set up, I started in on the cemetery research. First, I pulled the CCGS cemetery index to make sure---There's a certain order you do these things in. It confirmed what I'd remembered---The Dennison Cemetery had been around in the 1850s, somewhere near Keating, but nobody had seen it in a while, or been there to check.
Maps. I checked the 1862 county map. It didn't show a cemetery, but on the south side of the river, on a curve, it showed the house of an H. Dennison. That would be Hiram Dennison, who'd purchased the land up there. So now I knew exactly where it was thought to be, at any rate.
I went to the closet in the Pennsylvania Room. I'd been cleaning it lately. At a recent staff meeting, everyone had simultaneously begun referring to it as "Lou's closet." I'd made no overt claim on the closet myself, but I figured I'd better go through it. I'd been working really hard at cleaning, but I'd told my co-workers I'd been crying in a fetal position so they didn't expect much.
There is a tall case of rolled maps in one corner. I looked through for anything that might help. I found maps from 1940, 1955, and 1970. I unrolled them on the table. None of them showed a cemetery in that location. I checked the GIS maps printed in 1954, lying in a huge, solid book on top of the microfilm cabinets. Nothing there, either. Often, I'm the only person who knows where to find these things.
So far, nothing. Back to Annie Snyder's drawing board.
I took a moment to e-mail Justin, the head of the Genealogical Society. He'd done a lot of the research on the cemeteries, and I clued him in to what I was doing and checked for further information.
I pulled the obit index drawer, and looked under the Ds. Only one person thought to be buried there had rated an obit---Hiram's son, Andrew. I had the obit from the microfilm in five minutes. His funeral was described as "On the south side of the river, about one mile east of Keating station, on the farm on which he had lived ever since his birth."
Which helped narrow it down a little, but not much. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

"The cheese and corn casserole is good," Biz said. "Exactly what I needed tonight."
"I got a loosed tooth," Paul announced.
"I heard," said Biz. "That's really cool."
"You want to touch it?"
"No...That kind of grosses me out," said Biz.
"Oh, that grosses you out?" Tif asked. "I've seen you happily announce the most disgusting things, but you draw the line at teeth?"
"I had an experience as a kid," said Biz. "I may have told you this, but I'm gonna pull a Lou and tell you again because I like the story."
I smiled and made a little twirling "continue" motion with my fingers.
Tif said,"Actually I do recall you telling me that once before."
"I'm gonna leave it under my pillow for the tooth fairy!" Paul said.
I stood up to start the dishes. "I'm working on a missing cemetery, did I tell you?"
"No, you didn't."
"How do you lose a cemetery?" Tif asked.
"I know exactly where they left it in 1850," I said. "The Dennison Family Cemetery; it was established around then. According to the CCGS records, it should be downstream from Keating, but they admit nobody's exactly been to check lately. It's only accessible by boat, apparently."
"So you're going to do what?" Tif asked. "Just start randomly digging and hope you find bodies?"
"First off, that's illegal," I said. "Also, I don't stand much chance of getting over there. It's either a boat trip or one hell of an off-trail hike. I tried going off-trail once in that area, and I fucked it up very badly. It's pretty easy to get lost out there."
"Too bad," commented Biz. "I'd love to see you dig up a skull."
"I'd be surprised."
"So what is your next step?" Biz asked.
"Gonna get down to the courthouse, probably next week while Paul's in school. I'll check on a title search of the family, see if I can find a will maybe. Something the describes the property. Maybe something on the documents will mention the cemetery. If I can find any mention of it, I'll call this one a win."
"Do you think there's any remains?"
"I doubt it, somehow," I said. "CCGS is really good. I think if there were still markers, they'd have found them. It was very near the river; I suspect anything in that cemetery was wiped out by floods. Like I said, the whole cemetery seems to have only been accessible by boat, even in the old days. I found an obit for the owner's son that mentioned his funeral."
"Wait...." said Biz,"So for a funeral, they had to boat everyone over, along with the dead body? Cool."
"Now that I think about it, probably not. The Dennisons lived on that land, though christ knows how they got to it. They're the only family that did have easy access to the place."
"Insane," said Tif.
"You like that? Hell, in Glen Union they used to bury people in barns during the winter. When they ground was frozen, they'd bury people in the barn, where it was warmer. Then in the spring they'd dig them up and move them to the cemetery. Hell, there was a woman that never got moved---Nancy Kepler. She's still in the barn. There's a marker just outside it."
"Let's not move Nancy," intoned Biz. "We never liked her anyway."

I sat on the couch late at night watching TV, my wife sitting beside me. She said,"Paul's vacation is over. He goes back to school tomorrow."
I nodded. "He may give me a little trouble there. He and I have spent most of the past two weeks together; he hasn't wanted me out of his sight."
"Think he'll cry?"
"I hope not, but it could happen."
"We'll see."
"I gotta run down to the courthouse annex and check some documents while he's in school."
We sat in silence for a moment. She asked,"Did you go to your school dances?"
"Not so much. A couple of times, in seventh grade when they were new to me, and maybe a little in high school  with my friends. But no, not really. I was mostly out on an adventure at the time."
"Did you ever take a girl?"
I made a sarcastic noise with my mouth.
"Oh, come on," said Michelle. "I'll bet the girls all wanted to go out with you."
"They did not."
"You don't know."
"They were very clear on that point."
"There was probably at least one who had a crush on you."
"Trust me. None of the girls in Northern Lehigh were interested in a guy who spent his time looking for water monsters and buried treasures. I was voted Most Likely To Remain In High School The Rest Of His Life."
"And yet you named your son after your favorite teacher."
"Yeah. Well. Paula showed me that she cared."
There was a reason that in over thirty years, I had never once attended a reunion. Hell, I rarely even visited my old school; I had no idea what it even looked like now. Trips home were generally spent at my family's farm outside of town. I'd never been one of the popular kids in school, always off having an adventure that the other kids mocked, writing things about ghosts and buried treasures.
And I'd grown up to do the same thing, and make a career of it. I wrote newspaper columns about this stuff that were read far away, even in other states. Probably I had a few readers in the Northern Lehigh School District.
Life's funny that way.

In the morning, Paul and I walked together the four blocks to his school. I said,"Okay, little man. Go have a good day. Make me proud."
"Love you, Daddy," he said.
I gave him a hug. "I love you, too."
He walked into the school confidently---Like his first day. No tears, no problems. I watched him go, feeling a pang myself. It was going to take some time to get used to not having him around again.
I turned and started walking home.
Time to do what I do.
Lose myself in a mystery.

The county records had been stored in the courthouse since 1869, but about a year ago, some of the offices had moved over to the former Piper administration building on the east end of town. I walked into the Register and Recorder's office and greeted everyone. Showed a few photos of Paul. And then got to work.
I started with wills and administration notes, because they're easiest. The only one of the family to have a will registered was the wife, Elizabeth. Son Andrew and father Hiram had some estate documents, though, and I went through those without finding much. Time for the deeds. But first a restroom break.
On my way back down the hall, I spotted Justin. Justin's a local attorney, the president of CCGS, and every bit as good at this stuff as I am. We stopped to chat a moment, him in his suit, me feeling momentarily underdressed in my "Happy-Ness" Loch Ness Monster sweatshirt.
"Hi, Lou," he said. "How have you been?"
"Pretty good. Just in working on the Dennison thing. Looking through wills and stuff."
"Oh, yeah, you never know what might have a few details. I hope you find it....That was always the one we never could locate."
"I'm working on it, but I'm not holding out too much hope. Might pay to check, though. I found one mention of it in Andrew's obit."
"You found Andrews' obit?"
"Yeah, I got it right down the hall. Want a copy?"
"Sure. I just got out of a meeting. Lunch can wait. Let's take a look at a couple of deeds."
Justin and I spent the next twenty minutes picking out deeds from Noyes Township. What with the railroad right-of-way, it turned out to be somewhat complicated, but I did find a neat little description of the property on a title transfer from Hiram to his children.
"Check it out," I said. "It mentions buckwheat fields, apple trees, and a bridge."
"That's pretty good," said Justin.
"No cemeteries, though."
Justin looked at the clock. "Well, I have to run. Let me know what you find."
"I definitely will," I promised.
I walked across the hall to Assessments. Everyone here knows me. The woman said,"Hi, Lou. What can I help you with?"
"Back at the courthouse, you guys had a whole big rack of plat maps in the hall. Did they make the move with you?"
She hesitated a moment. "I think so. I think they're out here." I followed her out into the main area, where she found the plat maps rolled up in a cabinet.
"I need Noyes Township," I said.
After a moment, she found Noyes. I unrolled it on a desk. I said," I seem to have misplaced a cemetery."
"That probably won't show on the plat maps."
"I know. I'm just deep into long shot territory here. It's supposed to be right....here." I pointed at the map. "The last time anyone reports traces of it, it was maybe the 1940s. I'm trying to figure out if there are still any markers there."
Two more employees emerged from their offices. One said,"We have a map of cemeteries. All the known ones, compiled." He found a copy and unrolled it. "Nothing there."
"No, I'm sure it's nto well known. This is a neat map, though. Can I buy a copy?"
"I'll give you one for free right now."
The county government never charges me for anything. My tax dollars at work. Also your tax dollars. You should read more of my columns; get your money's worth.
The original employee came out with a photocopy of an old plat map. She handed it to me. "Is this it?"
I looked at the copy, and saw it was the area by the river in Noyes Township. Very near the river on the north end, it had a small number 62, listed as a cemetery.
"That's it," I said. "That's what I'm looking for. Can I get a copy of this?"
"This one is for you."
"When was this map made? Does it say?"
She looked the original over. "It says 1960."
"So there were traces of the cemetery long after we thought. And we have a precise location now. This is great!" I folded the copy in with my documents. "Can't wait to tell Justin. This one's a win."

 That afternoon, I was working the desk at the library when Chris came in. "Hi, Lou," he said. "Happy 2020. Working on anything good lately?'
"Well...."
"Oh, boy. Every time you make that noise, I know it's going to be something interesting."
"The Dennison Family Cemetery. Up near Keating. I finally found it on an old plat map at the Piper Building. Which may be as close as I come....The place is only accessible over water, or with one hell of an off-trail hike."
Chris grinned.
"So when are we going?"
I grinned back. I'd never been the prom king, never had a good time in high school. But I'd never exactly peaked there, either---My best adventures had always been ahead.

Wight Christmas: The 2019 Christmas Special

"Got a Christmas card from Jimmy Carter," I told my wife.
She frowned. "What the hell kind of mailing lists are you on?"
We were at Wendy's, on Bellefonte Avenue, because they had a fundraiser going for my son's Cub Scout group. The Cubs always gave me the urge to drink heavily, unlike when I'd actually been one, but I could spare the money. Our son Paul was sitting with us, playing with his kids' meal toy.
"It's happened before," I said. "I got one from him a couple of years ago. It's actually not all that big a stretch. Carter helped establish a church here in Lock Haven in 1968; I've written about that. He's always been very open about the fact that he loves Lock Haven---Once called it his favorite place in the world. It's not a huge stretch to imagine he might keep up occasionally with the biggest local historian."
"Well, that's pretty cool," said Michelle. "What are you going to do with it?"
"My scrapbook, I think," I said. "Can we stop by the grocery on the way home? I need a nine-volt battery and some scratch pads."
When we walked into the house afterward, I started unpacking the groceries. "Got an experiment to do about Yetis," I told Michelle. "If you smell smoke, don't get all excited. I got it under control."
"I think I won't ask."
"Probably that's good."
I set the steel wool and the battery down on the table. "Hey, Paul, you wanna see something cool?"
"Yeah! What?"
"I gotta test this before I show Teen Paranormal," I said. "It's a trick for staying warm when you're Yeti hunting. Now, these are both common household things. Never try this without Daddy, never." Paul is usually pretty good about those warnings. I pulled at the steel wool, thinning it out a bit. Then I touched it to the battery terminals, and it flared up with some very satisfying sparks.
Paul gasped, impressed. "Whoa! Can you do that again?"
I brushed the terminals with the steel wool again, and it flared up more. I'd done this before, but not as much since I'd been a kid---Adulthood held sadly few opportunities for starting fires, I'd found. This still worked the way I remembered it.
"One more time,": begged Paul.
I burned a segment of the steel wool, and he smiled. I said,"Maybe we'll try that out at Kettle Creek sometime."
"Yeah!" agreed Paul.

So I was sitting among the decorations when my phone buzzed. Zach had been in a frenzy, as he is every year at this time, decking the halls. And the shelves. And the desks, and everything else. I picked up the phone.
"Lou? It's Barb, from the Renovo branch. You're going to think I'm crazy."
I laughed. "Oh, I doubt that."
"Well, some weird stuff was going on. I didn't know who else to call."
"I get that a lot."
"It's always at night. Just last night, four balls fell off our Christmas tree---All in a row, like someone planned it. In line, they all rolled to one of our patrons. She's terrified now. She's in the medical field; it's not like she's not credible. We hear voices, and something that sounds like a baby crying. Always at night. This is crazy."
"I've heard worse."
"Really? Those Christmas balls were really weird...."
"Let me look into it a little. I'll do some digging, and then get back to you. Maybe I can get up there, do a little looking around."
"That would be great," she said. "Thanks."

I started doing what I do.
Usually you start with a title search. But I couldn't run clear down to the courthouse, and there were workarounds. Someone had written a series of thick books on the history of Renovo, where they'd listed every building and every incident---Great work. I cracked open the first one.
In a little while, I had a list of the pertinent people, and a timeline. The Renovo Library had been founded in 1968. It's thought that ghosts can haunt a place where they had a lot of fond memories; they don't necessarily have to be haunting the spot where they died. I considered all the people who might have fond memories of the local library, and abandoned that line of thinking immediately.
Previous to being a library, it had been a series of garages and car dealerships, all evidently on the same complex. I compiled a list of the owners, two of whom were named Jones and Baker. Fuck. I checked the card index without finding much of anything there. Two others were named Barlock and DeShong, and I had better luck.
I took a moment to check my e-mail. I had a newsletter in there reporting a Bigfoot sighting in Montgomery County. I forwarded that one to Resurrection Casey with instructions. Merry Christmas, Casey.
I checked obits against the cemetery index. In 1922, Barlock had lost a nephew at birth, and in 1941, the six-month-old baby of DeShong had died of pneumonia. I pulled both obits, though I thought DeShong was the better bet. From memory, it occurred to me that that Renovo Library was along the river, which put it right on the Sinnemahoning Path that the Native Americans had used.
Possibilities.
I walked upstairs to Children's. Jim, our new County Librarian, was covering.
"When do you usually go up to Renovo?" I asked.
"Van's in the shop, won't be until Thursday morning," he said. "Why? You got something you want to send up?"
"Yeah. Me. I got something to look into up there, and I may want to ride along if that's okay."
"Sure. I usually leave in the morning."
"We ride at dawn!"
"I don't leave until nine-thirty."
"We ride after dawn. I'll bring the coffee."

 "So, I hear the Wayne Township book is out," said Dave, the Highland Cemetery manager, sitting in the Pennsylvania Room.
"Finally," I agreed. "I got done with the drafts of that years ago. Finally, seven years after I was asked to write it, they're getting around to publishing it out there. Honestly I thought it would never happen."
Behind me, from the shelf, I heard an odd noise: Ping! Ping! Ping! Something metal, starting at the top of the room and traveling down.
Dave frowned. "What was that?"
It happened again, the dropping pinging noise. I said,"Dave, I'm gonna ask you to vacate the room calmly."
He stood up, and we walked out. I walked to the back room, and asked Mel,"Seen Zach?"
"I think he's up on three."
"We need him," I said. "Tell him to bring caution tape. We got another shelf about to collapse in the Pennsylvania Room."
Ten minutes later, we had the doors roped off and blocked with chairs. Zach said,"How did you know the shelf was about to collapse?"
"Recognized the sound," I said. "I been through this once before, about two years ago. I could hear the bolts pulling loose from the wall."
Dave looked at the tattered orange cloth Zach had tied across the door, and patted me on the shoulder. "Those come off your ankle?"
I laughed. "I actually have a couple like that, assuming Paul hasn't taken them. The bad news is, now I need a cemetery index out of that room."
My old friend Chris walked in. Looking over the barricades, he said,"Whoa. What the hell is going on here?"
"I'm going in," I said. "Cover me."
"What the---"
I low-crawled in, beside the chair and under the orange ribbon. Carefully, the shelf swaying on my left. I rolled and reached up, grabbing the Chapman Township Cemetery Index. I tossed it up, over the barricade, and Chris caught it outside the PA Room. I crawled carefully back out and took the book from Chris.
"Thanks."
"What's wrong in the Pennsylvania Room?"
"Got a shelf that's not quite as upright as it should ideally be."
I sat down at my desk and looked in the cemetery index. Little Paul DeShong's obit listed him as buried in Hyner, but there was no mention of him in the cemeteries anywhere in Chapman Township. Which meant that the baby was buried in an unmarked grave.
I found Tracey in the stacks.
"Hey, Tracey," I said,"Got a question."
She smiled. "Of course."
"If I wanted to donate a book in memory of someone, specifically for Renovo, would I take that to Barb up there? Or would it go through you first?'
"Bring it to me," she said. "Fill out the form and specify that you want it in Renovo."
"That's what I needed," I said. "Thanks."

The weather outside was frightful. And not in a good way.
I biked downtown to Subway and got a sandwich, and bought some Christmas cards at the dollar store. On my way back, I stopped in Triangle Park.
Triangle Park, creatively named after the triangle shape it formed, was fifty years old. It was basically the center of Lock Haven, and at the moment, it sported a Christmas tree, Santa's hut, and colorful lights. Recently, there was also a little free library in there, too---A wooden hut full of books that anyone could take.
I looked through the children's books and selected one called The Little Knight. It was a cute little book, involving a dragon that was sad because everyone was afraid of it, and it turned out everyone realized he wasn't so scary after all.
Perfect.
I tucked it into my coat and rode back to the library.

I rode up with Jim in the library van, armed with my bag of ghost-hunting stuff, my pocketknife, and my "Yeti For Action" sweatshirt. We got there about ten AM, and I walked into the building to find Renovo Barb and her assistant in the small main office.
"Thanks for coming," said Barb. "I know it all sounds so crazy...."
"Oh, I've heard way worse than this," I said. "About ten years ago, right here in Renovo, there was this guy who was clearly on crack." I set down my bag and began strapping my leg rig on. "Besides, I got a few photos of Red Hill on the way up. I'm hoping to get an article out of that for the Pennsylvania Wilds. Is there a hot spot, someplace where a lot of activity happens?"
"Over in Children's," said Barb. "Right by the wall."
"Let me go take a look," I said. "I'm going to set up a recorder and let it run a while."
A woman came in to return books. She looked at me and said,"I loved that article you did on the haunted places up in Bitumen."
"Oh, thank you. I appreciate that."
I went to the shelves in the Children's Library and turned on my recorder. "Renovo Library, December twelfth, ten-ten AM. Lou." I set it down and let it run, which is not the usual EVP but the best I could do under the circumstances. I got out my camera---The good one---And turned it on.
And it immediately went dead.
"Hunh," I said. "That's unusual." I walked back into the office. "It's thought that a lot of the time, ghosts suck batteries. I'm a little surprised; my batteries just went dead."
"We probably have some here," said Barb.
"I'll just go to the backup camera," I said. "That's good enough."
I got out the smaller camera and took some photos. Walking through the library---Which was nice, but not as big as ours---I clicked a lot of angles. Then I got out the EMF detector and the laser thermometer, and did some tests around the building.
I love this kind of thing; it makes for great conversation at the holiday table. How's your job going, Lou? Oh, just great, Aunt Catherine, I checked an old building for a dead baby last week. Pass the potatoes.
The EMFs held remarkably steady for an old building; the electricity was all staying in the places it was needed. The temperature was not paranormal, but was interesting---I found about a ten-degree shift between the floor and the ceiling, where usually that's only three to five degrees.
"I know you write for the Record," said Barb. "My husband was wondering if he could do an article on this for the Express."
"Oh, sure," I said. "I do some work for the Express, too. That'd be no problem." I got a folder out of my pack. "Brought you some stuff. Here's a copy of my research on the building. It was built about 1900, and started as an ice house. Then about 1923, it was bought and changed into a garage. During that time, one of the owners lost his son---Little Paul Maynard DeShong, six months old. I feel he's the most likely to be your ghost."
"Oh, that's sad," said Barb.
"According to the obits, he's buried in Hyner Cemetery, but doesn't have a marker. I don't know for sure if he ever did. But sometimes, the lack of recognition can cause a ghost to act up. So I brought you something. Merry Christmas." I got out the book and gave it to her. "I donated this book to you guys, in memory of Paul DeShong. Tracey already has it in the system, and there's a label in the cover with his name on it. Hopefully this helps."
"Thanks," said Barb. "I'll keep you updated."
"Definitely," I said. "And otherwise, I'd suggest you basically adopt the kid. Make him your mascot. Talk to him, leave a few toys out overnight occasionally. Ghosts want attention too."
Barb grinned. "We can do that."
"I'll come up again sometime, when I can," I said. "Happy holidays."

"Guys, I got you all Christmas presents." I handed out small survival bracelets to the Teen Paranormal kids, who sat around the table in the Sloan Room. Kayla, Krystianna, Austin, Olivia, Koti and her mom Barenda, and the new kid Devon all took the colorful bracelets and slipped them on.
"I'm gonna wear this forever," said Kayla, looking at the compass on it.
"I love these things," said Krystianna. "At home I have one of the ones with the little blade on it."
"Lou doesn't trust us with those," Kayla said, elbowing her.
"Tonight we're learning about Yetis, drawing from the lesson on Bigfoot last time," I said. "Yetis tend to be spotted in cold areas, so obviously you're going to need to learn some outdoor survival, as well."
"Once when we were looking for a Piper plane crash, my dad and I got lost and built a shelter," Krystianna said. "He said it was a learning experience."
"I like that," I said. "In the cold, obviously you're going to need to start a fire. Now, don't try this at home, okay? But this is one method you can try."
I set the nine-volt on the table and shredded the steel wool a bit. Then I touched the steel wool to the leads, and it flared up with some pretty impressive sparks. The kids all gasped.
I grinned.
"Who wants to try it?"

Devil's In The Details

"Thanks for meeting us for dinner," my friend Kevin said, sitting next to me at the table.
"Thanks for the invite," I said. "It's good to see you guys again. Thanks for coming in for my tour." I'd met Kevin about a year ago, when he'd been looking into Thunderbirds. Since then, we'd occasionally gotten together when he'd visited from New Jersey, and become friends. At the table was me, Kevin, Kevin's wife Donna, my wife Michelle, and of course Paul.
"So you're writing a book about Thunderbirds?" Michelle asked.
Kevin nodded. "When I called around this county, pretty much everyone told me I had to talk to Lou. You know a lot of people around here refer all questions to you?"
I laughed. "I've even had it happen to myself. If I have a question and start making phone calls, everybody tells me there's a guy at the library who can answer it."
Donna smiled. "What do you say?"
"I tell them he's a jerk."
"We'll be going to New Jersey next weekend," said Michelle. "It's a company trip to Lyndhurst."
"God, what's in Lyndhurst?" asked Donna.
"Medieval Times," said Michelle.
"Oh, right."
"I'm hoping to get a shot at the Jersey Devil while we're there," I said.
"The Jersey Devil has been sighted in that area?" Kevin asked me.
"I defy you to find any corner of New Jersey without sightings of the Jersey Devil."
He laughed. "True enough."

"Okay, check out that car," I said. "A Cadillac that's over-weighted. No way there's not a dead body in the trunk."
"Oh my god, you're right," Tif said from the back of the Prius. "That really does look like a mobster's car."
"New Jersey," I said. "He's gotta drive around a lot because all the good swamps are already filled with bodies."
"Which way am I going?" Michelle asked me.
I checked the map. "Look for Forty-six west. We'll find the place, watch the show at Medieval Times, and maybe afterward, get a shot at the Jersey Devil."
"You don't want to shoot it," said Tif.
"No," I agreed. "I'll settle for a photo."
"Is the Jersey Devil like the Snallygaster?" Paul asked.
"Maybe a little," I said. "The Jersey Devil is often described as a sort of flying kangaroo with hooves, wings, and horns, and thus the second or third weirdest thing ever spotted in New Jersey. It's been said to be the thirteenth child of a woman from southern New Jersey around 1735, and the story was even covered by Benjamin Franklin in his publications."
"You've mentioned this on tours," commented Tif.
"And tonight we turn the clocks back," I said. "So that gives us an extra hour tonight. In New Jersey. Yaaay."

Medieval Times is in Lyndhurst, New Jersey, and it's shaped like a castle on the outside. On the inside, you get to eat a meal with no utensils and cheer on knights as they fight a staged battle. It's a totally cheesy roadside attraction, and completely worth the trip.
I returned to our table with my second beer, after waiting in line behind, apparently, a sorority. Paul was polishing off all of the garlic bread they'd brought. As I sat down, he said,"Hey, Daddy...."
I handed him my garlic bread. I was just glad he was eating.
The knights raced back and forth on their horses in front of us, battling with swords and lances. Paul loved it. I'd never seen him like this: Standing on his chair, screaming for a winner. My little boy, who loved sharing and singing and rescued worms from the sidewalk, was calling for blood.

"Great slippers, Dad." Tif looked down at my Bigfoot slippers as I sat down on the couch.
"Seriously. Right?" I grinned, holding up one foot. The slipper was a furry Sasquatch foot, with three claws. "Since we can't wear shoes in this place, I picked these up." I was also wearing my newest sweatshirt, black with a white ghost on the left side. It was rapidly becoming my new favorite.
"Where'd you get them from?"
"Ordered them from Amazon. They came just in time to wear for this."
"Can I try them on, Daddy?" Paul asked. "They look snuggly."
I took off the slippers and handed them to Paul. "What's your favorite cryptid, little man? Out of curiosity."
"The one we were looking for in Virginia."
"Virginia? I was mostly looking for Chessie...."
"I mean Maryland."
"Oh, the Snallygaster."
"What's the Snallygaster?" Tif asked.
"Sort of a weird dragon with tentacles that appears in Frederick, Maryland," I said. "I got one on a T-shirt."
"Tentacles?"
"Well, sometimes the term has been used to just refer to Maryland Bigfoot sightings."
"I see."
"Gonna go out for a little while." I stood up. "I figure I'll use my extra hour to explore a bit. Maybe spot the Jersey Devil. You never know."
I changed into my sneakers, sitting on the steps. Paul said,"Can I come, too?"
"No," said Michelle. "It's almost bedtime."
"You and me will find somewhere to explore tomorrow, little guy," I said. "I have a couple of places in mind."
I made sure my backpack had everything I needed, and slung it over my shoulder. I walked up the stairs and went outside.
It was warm for early November---I didn't even need my coat. I checked the map of the town that I'd shoved in my pocket, and headed out toward the avenue.
Okay, New Jersey. You don't like me and I don't like you. But let's power through this together, and then I'll get back to telling people you're only there to keep the hypodermic needles out of Pennsylvania.
I acanned the sky with my new night-vision binoculars, and realized almost immediately that I was unlikely to spot the Jersey Devil. I wasn't even going to spot anything that could be mistaken for the Jersey Devil. Lyndhurst, New Jersey, lies between several big airports, and I'd been seeing planes take off all night. I might have spotted a water monster. Not a flying monster. Too much interference.
But I didn't give up that easily. I kept walking, Lyndhurst quits activity pretty early, apparently---A Saturday night, and I was the only pedestrian I'd seen out. In Lock Haven, I'd have passed fifteen drunk college students and three vandals by now. I hit the boulevard, and to my delight found a nice-looking little cigar bar that was still open. I walked inside and bought a decent-looking cigar. There were a few other people smoking inside, and I lit up and took a seat.
"So," I said to the room at large,"I'm a freelance writer specializing in the paranormal. I'm looking for information about the Jersey Devil. Anyone have an experience?"
I'd long ago gotten over feeling stupid when I said stuff like that. Interviewing witnesses is important. I got a few grins, and shrugs, and one man said,"A long time ago, when I was in college...."
I turned. He was a heavyset man, balding, with a big bushy mustache. I said,"Yes, sir?"
"I used to have a biology professor who took us on field trips to the Pine Barrens," he said. "We were out there one evening, as dusk was falling, and I saw two red, glowing eyes looking at us from behind a tree. Never did figure out what it was, for sure."
I grinned. "Thanks."
The cigar was good. I was still smoking it when I left. I took out the map and looked to see what the most likely place was. There was an industrial complex up and over the hill, and I headed for that.
As I rounded up over the top of the hill, I stopped. The complex lay below me, and across the river, I could see straight into Manhattan. I was looking miles away, into the next state, and I saw the lights of the industry below, and the skyline of New York in the distance. It was a beautiful view, in spite of being obviously New York.
The view of New York City made me think of the Coney Island Creature, which I'd read accounts of in the past.
Between 1877 and 1880, a flying creature was seen over Coney Island. I never connected this before, but given the proximity to New Jersey, could it have been a Jersey Devil outside his usual territory? Hell, the Jersey Devil had been sighted in Lock Haven---New York isn't even that much of a stretch.
I may not have seen the Jersey Devil, but I might have solved the Coney Island Creature. I stood and looked at the view.
And, for just a moment, New Jersey didn't seem all that bad.

We pulled the car in at the overlook by 80. Paul jumped out and ran into the grass. I let him go---The little guy was dying to explore.
"I'll just wait here," said Tif. "The view is beautiful enough right from the car seat."
I got out of the car and followed the kid. The mountain overlooked in the distance, off to the west---We were standing on top, looking far out over Pennsylvania.
I found Paul climbing a rock at the edge of the forest. Standing on top of it, he threw his hands up and cried out,"I'm on top of the world!"
I laughed. "Want to use my binoculars, little man?"
"Yeah!" said Paul.
I hung them around his neck, and he looked out over the valley. He said,"We're really high up! I can see everything from here!"
I smiled.
"You got it, little guy," I said. "There's always a lot to see."

The Kids Are All Fright

I stood in front of the kids, six teens sitting around the table. Once a month, I teach paranormal investigation to kids. It's nothing I ever envisioned as a career.
"I'd like to welcome you guys to the first meeting of the school year," I said. "Tonight, we're going to learn how to do the research on a haunted house."
For my job at the library, I run a group called Teen Paranormal. I teach teenagers how to investigate. I had three old ones and three new ones: Alex, Aubree, Olivia. Austin, Kayla, and Krystianna.
"When LHPS gets a call, it's the first thing I do," I said. "Go to the courthouse and pull the deeds. That way, I learn who lived there, who died there, who is most likely to be haunting the place. Start with the assessment record---It's this thing here." I held up the copy I'd made.
The kids all looked through their packets and found their copies. I saw Austin have a little trouble, and Krystianna help him. I said,"On this form, you'll have the age of the building---But don't depend on that; I've seen them be off by as much as twenty-five years---And the current owners. You'll also find the most recent deed book and page, and that's what you're looking for. Take that down to the Register and Recorder's office."
Olivia asked,"Are we going to go downstairs and look at the research file?"
"We are; that's tonight."
She grinned. "Good. I like that."
Aubree looked across the table at the new girls. "We're nerds," she said.
Krystianna grinned. "Oh good. Us too."
"Nothing wrong with that," I said.
"You notice how we all have something going on?" Aubree asked. "ADD, ADHD...."
"Autism...."
"Tourette's...."
"Anxiety...."
I held up one hand. "Clinical depression over here."
Olivia glanced at me. "How come the nerds and rejects seem to do better after high school than the others?"
"I can answer that, actually," I said. "Based on my own experience." I'd been standing to give the lesson; I sat down in my chair. "The cool kids, the jocks and cheerleaders, they have everything easy. Everything's given to them. It seems nice, but they're not developing the skills they need for life. They're gonna be sitting in a bar forty years from now, still talking about how they won the big game. Meanwhile, you guys are learning all the best coping skills to make you successful later on. It's what I did."
I saw Krystianna look sympathetic. First meeting, and already I could tell she was the sensitive one.
"I was always writing stories, talking about ghosts and monsters in school," I said. "I had teachers tell me I needed to do more math. One of my journalism teachers told me I'd never become a writer; she said I didn't have what it takes. Every couple of years I clip out one of my columns and send it to her. It's actually about time again."
The kids laughed. I said,"I was told to knock it off with the ghost stories, and now look what I do for a living. My columns are very popular. I actually wrote in one a while ago that I'll give my old teachers a tour for free. That way, I won't have to do any math."
I stood up and looked at all the kids. "This year, you guys are my kids. This is your new home. You guys are Dumbledore's Army. And I'm gonna make you into the best paranormal investigators in the county."

You'd think, as a paranormal investigator, that I'd encounter scary things. Which I do, all the time, but not ghosts and monsters. It's the general public that scares me, or at least about fifteen percent of it. I'd been hoping I'd seen the last of the weird guy in the white robe, but he slunk into the library while I was on the desk, looking around.
"Is it safe to come in here?" he asked.
"Of course, sir," I said. "The public library is safe for everyone."
He looked me over---My shirt with the ghost on it, and then my black eye. "It doesn't look like you were very safe," he said.
"Oh, I did this at home."
He slunk off into the stacks. Zach said,"That's one hell of a shiner you got there. How did you manage that?"
"Wish I had a good story to go with this, but I slipped in the shower," I said. "My head hit the wall, and then because I wasn't finished yet, hit the bathtub rim on the way down."
Zach winced. "Ouch."
I grinned. "Oh, yeah,  it hurt like hell."
I looked at my e-mail. "Hey, Zach," I said,"Can you watch the desk for a minute? A relative of the guy who donated our Native American artifacts says he's coming to see them, and I have to go and fetch them from the attic to put on display."
"Sure," said Zach. "Go ahead."
The Ross Library's attic was built as part of the old mansion in 1887. Getting to it is always somewhat of a process. I took the elevator up to the second floor, then walked down a long, dark hallway and into the old section. Turning left, I walked up the stairs, and I was there.
Most of the library's old spaces reminded me of something out of Hogwarts. I walked into the room with the artifacts in it, and then I noticed the old book on the shelf.
It was old, battered, published in 1856. I paged through, looking at the chapters---It was a local history book, but one written when Clinton County only had a few years of history.
When I went downstairs with the artifacts, I took the book, too.

"So long, little guy. See you after school."
Paul paused on the sidewalk just barely long enough to give me a hug, and then darted into the school. I watched him go, then I turned and walked back down the street, carrying the travel mug Tracey had given me for Christmas a few years back, drinking my coffee.
I walked home. I walked past the Elliott House, home of a former mayor; the Wait House, oldest one on the street; the Probst House, home of a former city councilman. I got to my own home, the Yost House, built in 1884 and haunted by Ida Yost.
Fed the dogs. Had breakfast. Went upstairs and wrote an article. went back downstairs and binge-watched The Umbrella Academy.
Looked at my watch. Ten-fifteen.
I walked out to the garage. I'd been cleaning it, for lack of anything better to do. Under normal circumstances I can go for years without bothering to clean the garage, and have. But a couple of hours without the kid, and I'm doing it for lack of anything better to do.
I'd been making some inroads into all the junk, throwing some out and discovering hidden, unknown lands behind some of the cardboard boxes. Some years ago, my wife had purchased a huge desk at a yard sale, shoved it in the garage, and forgotten about it. I studied it for a little while.
I shoved it into the corner, and then began to surround it with boxes.
In a few minutes, I had walls of cardboard built up, blocking most of the view of the desk. I had a small entrance, so I could get to the desk, but you'd have to be practically on top of it to notice it.
I've always built secret spaces for myself. Ever since I was a kid, I'd liked creating little hiding spots, bolt-holes I could spend time it. Sometimes with no idea what I was even going to do with them. As a kid on my father's farm, I'd had a shelter in the woods, a hiding space above the garage, and one in the attic. I hadn't outgrown the desire as an adult, either---I'd had a secret space down at the Piper Museum, and at least two at the library. With some minimal effort, I could construct one in my own garage.
Again, I had no idea what I was going to actually accomplish with a hidden space. But it was something to kill time while my son was in school.

Paul had recently joined the Cub Scouts. I'd been a scout when I was a kid, and I remembered a lot of it. I didn't remember the weekly meetings instilling a strong desire to go off and drink alcohol, but that may be just perspective.
"Dad!" Paul called. "I saw a monster!"
We were hiking through the forests of McElhattan, part of the weekly activity. Paul was walking with his classmate Xander. I asked,"Was it a bipedal land monster, or more the water monster type?"
"Water monster," Paul said.
"And I saw Bigfoot!" Xander added.
"Good," I said. "Get pictures."
At the end of the trail was Zindel Park. The kids were allowed to run wild and explore a bit, and Paul and Xander started darting around. It had been a year since I'd been there, breaking an old curse. I tried to check in every once in a while, and the Cub Scout hike had seemed as good a time as any.
I climbed up on the concrete dam structure while the kids were charging around. Kneeling down with a flashlight, I looked through the metal grate and down into the water. It was too dark for me to see the Giantess statue, which was a relief.
An old friend of mine, Barenda, spotted me as I climbed back over the wall. Barenda, now a parent, had once been a teenager in a group I'd run.
"Looking for something?" she asked.
"Just an old curse."
"Really? Cool. My daughter would like that."
"How old's your daughter now?"
"Fifteen."
"You know, I run a class on this stuff for teens. We're meeting tomorrow night, if she'd like to join."
"Great," said Barenda. "We'll be there."

"Glad you guys could all make it," I said. Barenda was there, next to me at the table, and she'd brought her daughter Koti. Olivia, Krystianna, Austin, and Kayla had also made it. I said,"How's everything going tonight, guys?"
"I have a school project," Kayla said. "I was wondering if I could keep a blog on this group, for my computer class."
I thought about it for two seconds. It would give her something to do, plus it was good that she was taking pride in the group. "I love that. Send me the link; I really want to see that. Now, remember, I have my haunted tours at the end of the month.You guys get in free, because you're my kids. And I have a favor to ask."
"Uh-oh," said Austin.
"No, no, it's cool. I recently found an old book that suggested that the Native Americans believed this whole valley up along the Susquehanna was cursed. Because I have to fulfill an annual curse quota or risk losing my job, I'm gonna ask you guys to help me investigate this on the tour. Anyone who comes along, I'll loan you my equipment, and you do the testing for me while I give the tour. Let's find out how paranormal this city really is."
Krystianna grinned. "I can't wait. I'm coming as long as Kayla can give me a ride."
"Of course I'll be coming," said Kayla.
I smiled. "Great. Now let's learn how to use this stuff, and then get some practice in the attic."

I led the kids into the attic, where nobody ever went. The kids followed me like baby ducklings after the mother. I chose the newspaper storage room, turned on the light, and turned to face the kids.
"Okay, when investigating, the first thing you do is get a baseline," I said. "Kayla, check EMFs. Krystianna, get a look at the temperatures. Look for fluctuations. Go slow and steady with the laser thermometer, like...." I trailed off. I was moving my laser thermometer along the wall, and suddenly I stopped and frowned.
"Do we have a ghost?" Kayla said. "Tell me we have our first ghost."
".....Maybe," I admitted. "We have a big jump in temps over here....I went from sixty-five to seventy-four, which is huge, and now I can't replicate it."
"Let me see if there's more of that," said Krystianna.
"Didn't we get temperature drops up here once before?" asked Olivia.
"We did, a year or two back. This is interesting; that's a pretty big drop. Let's do an EVP session and see what we get."
"If we have time, can we play it back afterward?" asked Kayla, who was rapidly emerging as the ringleader for this whole group.
"Sure, I don't see why not. We just need to take time to get one group picture before we're done. Let's get to work."

I reached across the table and turned off the digital recorder.
"So we didn't get much on the audio," I said. "That's okay, sometimes that happens. But now you understand how to do an investigation. You guys did a great job tonight."
"And we're going to do it during the tours," said Krystianna.
I nodded. "That's right. You guys are my eyes and ears during the tours. Hope you all can make it. Next month, we're doing Bigfoot. See you guys soon."

I spent the day leading up to the tour pacing the library and doing math in my head.
"I'm hoping the weather holds out," I said to Mel when I paused briefly by her door. "If I can make four hundred sixteen dollars, I break my record. That's a total of a hundred and four people. Four dollars apiece."
"Good luck," Mel said without looking up from her computer.

I was still pacing that night, outside in the dark as people began to arrive. A carload at a time, people arrived. Kayla, Krystianna, and Aubree all got there together.
I smiled.
"Guys! Thanks for coming. What we're gonna do is take the equipment and investigate during the tour---Kayla, you take charge, Notify me if we get anything, immediately. It's all part of the show, but it may tell us something, too. Here, Kayla, you carry the bag."
The kids all grabbed some of the equipment---Kayla took the EMF detector, and Krystianna took the laser thermometer. Already, they were all learning their favorite tools.
"This is gonna be great," said Aubree cheerfully.
"You nervous?" Krystianna asked me.
"I got a record to break tonight," I said. "I'm scared to death."
I turned on my belt-clip speaker, and stepped up onto one of the picnic benches.
And as I face the crowd, I feel something calm come over me. And the night went from an intimidating goal....To me just doing the thing I do.
"Thanks for coming tonight, and supporting the Ross Library," I said. "My name is Lou, and I'm a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers. Tonight, I'm going to take you around the city, and tell you about some of the local hauntings. The Native Americans who lived here hundreds of years ago called this area Otzinachson. It was believed that this meant 'Demon's Den,' and that the land was cursed. And we're going to hear about some of that tonight. And I invite you to pay attention, and think of how many of these haunted buildings were made from the stone and clay of this same cursed land."
We walked down the alley, and I stood in between two of the homes. "I chose this spot because we're in between two documentably haunted houses here. My my right is the John Brown House, haunted by undertaker John Everett Brown, who fell from his stairs and cracked his skull in 1938. On the other side is the Reuben Brawn House, owned by a local lumberman and haunted by his daughter Maude, who died of typhoid in 1893. LHPS has investigated that one, and actually had to run our cords out the window because the house is so big and twisty inside."
We walked down the alley. Krystianna caught up to me and said,"Lou, we got a temperature drop back there. Sixty-nine to fifty-four."
"That's pretty big. Was it closer to the Brown House or the Brawn House---" Not everyone is me. "---On the right or the left?"
"The right."
"The John Brown House. Excellent!"
The next stop was Triangle Park, where I told the story of the Giantess, and then on to stories about the Giwoggle and the Jersey Devil. I talked about the curse of the courthouse, and then we moved down Water Street to the Fallon Hotel, where I pulled out my photocopied Lock Haven map.
Krystianna looked at me with some incredulity. "Is that a script?"
"If you call this mess a script." I showed it to her, "When it's a newer tour than usual, I generally write the stops down with a little note, then I highlight the route. Makes it easier to remember."
"Cool."
Mad Anthony Wayne and the murder of James Sesto filled out the tour, and we wrapped up back at the library.
"Just a warning, Lou," said Kayla,"The guy over there is going to try to talk to you about orbs." She rolled her eyes. She'd learned really well.
"Thanks for the heads up," I said.
Kayla handed me my shoulder bag---She'd already collected the equipment. Good girl. I gave the kids a group hug.
"You guys did great tonight. You're my kids. And I didn't break my record....But that's okay. Cause I got to spend time with you guys."
Krystianna grinned. "I'm glad we got adopted."
"I'm proud of you," I said. "Go home, get some sleep. Thanks for coming out tonight."

I pulled out of the alley and parked my bike in the garage. By flashlight, I stepped into my secret hiding spot and counted the money.
Then I took out the group photo we'd taken at the last meeting, and looked it over for a moment. I smiled, and set it on the desk.
Things were looking up.

Home On The Strange

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

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

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

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

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

"Is a photo that shows nothing, yes."

"Bummer."

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

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

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

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

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

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

#50: Scare You In September

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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