The Ghost of North Hall

Of course, the theatre was haunted, but that was tradition…theatres are supposed to be haunted, or so I have been told! There were always stories of phantom footsteps beyond the footlights, of doors opening and closing, and the sounds of a conversations, kept low and quiet. While the theatre had originally served as the stable for the estate that once occupied this part of the campus, I never heard any stories of people hearing horses neighing, or stomping their feet, nor of anyone smelling oats or hay, or seeing a ghost in livery. As far as I know, no students ever died there in the building, so I am not sure who would have been haunting the place, but perhaps there were some thespians who were so dedicated to their art that they could not leave the site of their youthful passions.

While I never experienced anything strange in the theatre, other than a few avant-garde interpretations of Shakespeare, I agree that any good theatre should have ghost, and ours was no exception!

It was said that the English House also had a ghost or two. Although the theatre did not deliver any chills, I did have some questionable experiences in the English House. It was used for English classes, obviously, but is also housed the campus newspaper, The Gazette. I worked on the paper Freshman and part of Sophomore years…when I still thought I wanted to be a journalist. On occasion, I would put in some hours on the paper in the evening, when the building was empty…or supposed to be, and I would often hear someone walking up the stairs, hear doors swinging open on creaking hinges, and even the sound of someone talking, as if far off. I could never hear what was being said, and when I investigated, I never found anyone else in the house.

I never saw anything strange though, and everything else could have easily explained away, as the door was not locked and it is possible that I was not as alone as I thought I was. Nonetheless, it makes for a good story.

However, this story is not the story that I want to tell now…it is not about the theatre or the English House, it is about the ghost of North Hall!

North Hall and South Hall were wings of the Peter J. Froeberg dormitory, North was for men, and South for women. It was built in 1958 in the midst of an optimistic period, when enrollment was going up every year and the two other dorms, Nelsenius and Bremer were filled to capacity! Both wings could hold up to 550 students, most two to a room, but a few were fortunate enough to have a room to themselves! These were not luxurious rooms, they were small, cinderblock affairs with one window and two large armoires with drawers and a space to hang clothes at one end of the room, with desks against the wall, under the window.

Years later, when I visited the Montgomery County jail annex in Eagleville PA (really, just visited) and that their rooms were very similar to those in North Hall.

While the rooms in North Hall were small, some had connecting doors, and if you were lucky enough to get along with your neighbors, you could open up all the doors and have suite of rooms! Each floor had an RA (Resident Assistant) who stayed in room that was situated in the corners, where the hallway curved…these were bigger, and much nicer…but came with responsibilities that few wanted. The RAs often had to resolve arguments, straighten out room assignments, clean up messes, and make sure maintenance was called when there was a problem too big for the RA to fix.

When I lived there, the building had no air conditioning, and the heat was questionable, making it too hot and humid in the summer and too cold and damp in the winter, which reminded me of home, as my parents were not a big fan of A/C and we had old cast-iron stem radiators, and a thermostat which was seldom set about 60 (but this is another story).

One nice feature of the dorm was that there was a communal study room on each wing…which we occasionally used for study groups, but usually just as a place to meet up or hang out/party, play cards, etc. Of course, they also had communal bathrooms, which I was not pleased with…but I put up with it.

All in all, the best thing about North Hall was being able to leave and visit friends down in the townhouses, where we had more room to spread out, with bad 1970’s paneling, sticky carpets, stoves, A/C and grass to befoul.

I lived in North Hall during my first semester of Freshman year…sharing a room with a guy who tolerated me, and vice versa, he was not a bad guy at all, we were just different. We were friendly, but did not hang out a lot, I tended to gravitate towards guys who were more into music – like Pink Floyd, Genesis, Yes, or the Grateful Dead, etc., and who liked to smoke pot AND drink.

However, one of the people I made friends with was a guy named Lerone, who was a Sophomore. He was not a big drinker, and I never saw him get high. He was highly intelligent, but a little eccentric. Lerone was also a student of history and politics, as well as a huge fan of Johnny Carson. He knew a lot about popular culture, and obscure facts that we would refer to as ‘trivia’ these days.

Lerone was one of the fortunate few who had a single room. The room next door was empty and locked, and according to the rumor mill, that room had been unoccupied for years, and was in fact, empty…no furniture or anything, just a vacant cinderblock room.

Although the room was supposed to be empty, Lerone told me that he heard noises on the other side of the wall, late at night. The sound of furniture being moved, laughing, coughing, and the faint sound of old music, “…like it was from the ‘70s!” And once, he swore, he heard muffled sobbing!

When he told me about this, I figured it was his imagination, combined with the fact that sound traveled throughout the building, as there was a lot of empty space and no insulation! He could have been hearing sound from any where in North Hall, coming up through the cinderblocks.

“Or maybe there are mice running around that room.” I said to Lerone when he mentioned the strange sounds.

One night, when we were hanging out with the RA, who was friends with Lerone, he asked about the vacant room, and this is when I first heard of the story of the ghost! While I had grown up on campus, and knew about the theatre and the English House, this was a tale I had never heard before.

It happened during the Spring Semester of 1972. As usual, there were two students assigned to the room in the Fall of ‘71, and like my roommate and I, the two got along okay, though they were very different people. The two guys were named Jack and Sam, no one really remembers where they came from, or even much about them; however, by October, it was clear that there was some stress developing between the two of them.

Jack was fairly neat and organized, while Sam barely had a handle on his side of the room. He was messy, and his personal hygiene fluctuated, but steadily went downhill over time. Jack told friends that he was annoyed by the mess, but was more concerned because Sam was very secretive. He would be gone for hours at time, and then come back to the room, get into bed, turn his back to Jack and just lay there. Sometimes he would eat leftovers from the cafeteria – which attracted ants, read comics or science fiction magazines, but mostly, he would just lay there, occasionally murmuring to himself.

Jack found it creepy.

Then, in late October of ‘71, things came to a head when Sam got news that one of his high school friends was MIA in Vietnam, then the air raid siren went off in the middle of the night. Of course, it was an accident, but Sam went into a panic, and stocked his side of the room with food that was clearly pulled from the trash, which attracted even more ants, and a few other critters. He also surrounded his bed with jugs of water, and would sleep with a knife under his pillow. Sam was ready for the apocalypse! This made things more tense and Jack snapped, he started yelling at Sam to “…clean up and get some help!”, and stormed out of the room, demanding that changes be made!

As if Jack wasn’t mad enough, Sam put all of Jack’s things in the hallway while he was complaining to the Administration, and barricaded the door!

This led to mandatory counseling for Sam and a new room assignment for Jack!

After a few weeks of therapy, Sam seemed to come out of his shell, his grades had always been good, but his seemed to pay more attention in class, and become more engaged. He was even seen talking to other students while at the cafeteria…something he never did before!

This lasted until finals…when he stopped therapy to focus on studying, and began to withdraw again. Sam got through the exams with passing grades, but when everyone else went home for the holidays, he stayed on…almost alone in North Hall, and he seemed to prefer it that way.

During Intersession, the time between Christmas and the start of Spring semester, Sam took an Economics course, but other than the time spent in the classroom in Beck, he was seldom seen out of his room. It was a cold and snowy January, and there were fewer people on campus, so his strange behavior did not get much notice.

However, this behavior continued into the Spring semester, he had signed up for three classes, and while he attended them regularly, he stopped participating…and the other students started complaining about the smell, and the constant muttering under his breath.

There were also rumors. While Sam seldom went to the cafeteria any more, he still had to eat; students claimed to have seen him digging in the trash dumpsters late at night, pulling out food and putting it in bags to take back to his room. Some claimed to have heard him praying to Satan late at night, and others said they could hear him using a shortwave radio and speaking Russian. A few of the co-eds claimed that they caught Sam looking in through their dorm windows over in South Hall, and there were reports of break ins, but none of these were substantiated. Although, the speculation was that he might have been looking for food.

A few of the professors tried to help him, the chaplain and even Doc sat him down for a good talking too…but to no avail.

Finally, as the weather was about to turn warm and the school was preparing for Hell Week, and Spring formals, Sam was called to the Administration Building and was advised to go back into counseling or risk “…not being invited back for the Fall semester”.

That was the last time anyone saw Sam alive.

As far as anyone knows, he went into his room, locked the door and stayed there. His neighbors complained about him crying and laughing late at night. People would pound on his door and tell him to stop, and usually he would quiet down, but still, if one listened carefully at the door, you could still hear Sam sobbing and talking to himself!

Finally, after about a week, it was decided that his parents would be called. The plan was that Security would go into his room first thing Monday morning, as soon as his parents arrived; however, at 3am that morning his neighbors were woken up the sound of furniture being moved in Sam’s room! It was mostly scraping and banging…and it was annoying! One of the students was going to go pound on his door again, when the noise stopped, then there was a strange strained cry and all was quiet, so the student went back to sleep.

Monday came and went, no one could get ahold of Sam’s parents, and since it was quiet, nothing was done. No more noise, no more strange sightings, and no more complaints, and Same was more or less forgotten until the smell wafted into the hallway!

It was Wednesday morning before Security went in, and then right back out again. One of the guys on the floor said one of the guards came out looking ashen, paused for a moment and then ran to the bathroom! The other, walked out, shut the door, said “I can’t!” and then got on the walkie and asked for help. Within the hour, the Police had arrived, the room was roped off and everyone was evacuated from the building, both North and South Halls. As it was a nice day, most of the students congregated in the Quad; however, a few headed for the parking lot, with thoughts of hitting Mc Donald’s or White Castle. On their way out, if they were paying attention, they may have noticed a couple of vans from the Coroner’s office parked by the basement doors, at the bottom of the stairs!

Some APOs and a couple of Owls walked from the townhouses to see what was going on, and wound up watching the show from the back of a maintenance truck while they killed a few six packs of Old Milwaukee. They later told their friends that they watched as cops came out of North Hall, white as sheets, and one of them ran behind a dumpster to puke! Then the basement doors opened, and a bunch of guys came out carrying three body bags!

About this time, a car from the Star Ledger pulled up, but Security ran them off…surprisingly, none of the other newspapers or TV stations showed up.

My guess is that the college had enough connections to keep things quiet.

After a few hours, the cops all cleared out and the students got the okay to go back to their rooms; but most were having too much fun partying in the Quad.

They had music, and a few barbecue grills, and lots of beer!

For once, the Administration didn’t mind…they were happy that the students were occupied, and things quieted down by 10pm. Of course, Maintenance was not happy about finding a couple of passed-out frat-boys in the back of their truck, but in light of everything else, even this too was forgiven.

Classes resumed the next day, and the school attempted to get back to normal, but there were rumors! Some were wild, but some were closer to the truth, like how when Security went into the room, they found Sam’s parents laid out on the beds, with their throats cut, and Sam was sitting in a chair between them, grinning, after having cut his own throat!

Apparently, his parents had shown up on Sunday night, and a fight had ensued, Sam ended the fight…which explains the noise his neighbors heard that night…and the sudden quiet.

Eventually the rumors died down, as everyone was caught up in studying for exams, and looking forward to graduation and summer. Meanwhile, the room was cleaned, and then cleaned again and then sealed up until the end of the semester.

Over the summer, the entire wing was re-painted, and repaired. When the Fall Semester started in 1972, it was as if nothing had happened, and two new students moved into the room where “the incident” had occurred. By this time, the rumors had become things of myth and legend, as life went on.

The new residents of the room heard the rumors about the room within minutes of moving in. Their clothes were still laid out on the bed, waiting to be put into the drawers of the new armoires, their notebooks and school supplies were still in their boxes and the portable record player was still folded and ready to be deployed. That was when a few of the Sophomores came in saying “We just wanted to see the room, to see where it happened!” One of the new kids asked “Where what happened?” And that’s when they found out about the “incident”. One of the guys immediately put in for a transfer to another room, and it was granted before the day was out, he was actually moved to the overflow, the basement of South Hall. He wound up with a single in one of the most valued rooms on campus, outside of the townhouses.

The other guy was happy to have a room to himself first semester of freshman year, and declared that he was “…not afraid of any ghost stories!” However, even as he made this declaration, the other guys in the room could see a look of doubt cross his face.

Despite any reservations he might have had, the student, Nick, stayed in the room for the entire semester. He never mentioned that he saw or heard anything unusual, but when his friends would go to Nick’s room to hangout, they all reported feeling having a creepy feeling, probably because they knew all the rumors. Not even downing a few beers, or passing a joint helped take the edge off, and usually they all chose to go to another room to party…even though that meant having to deal with roommates.

One night, Nick had a girl stay overnight in his dorm, but she wound up leaving at 3am and running back to her own room in South Hall. When her roommate asked her about it the next morning, thinking that Nick had done something wrong, the girl said he was not the problem. She told the roommate that she woke up in the middle of the night, to a horrible smell, like rotten meat! When she opened her eyes, she saw something standing in front of the window, although it was just a silhouette, she could see glowing red eyes staring, and just before she screamed, the figure faded away! She got up and out of there right away, leaving Nick sound asleep…only to wake up confused and disappointed the next morning.

She was not the only one to notice a foul odor in the room, underneath the smell of new paint, weed and incense, many others also noticed the rotten meat smell in the room!

While Nick kept saying that nothing bothered him in the room, after moving out, he admitted that he never felt comfortable while he was living there. This led to him drinking more than usually, it actually began to be a problem, but this got better when he abandoned the room early in the Spring semester.

Nick’s neighbors were used to hearing sounds coming from his room at all hours of the night. They figured that he was having trouble sleeping, was drunk, had a girl over, etc. But Nick was well liked, and it never got too bad, so no one complained. However, over the Thanksgiving weekend, one of his neighbors was staying on campus and heard the usual noises coming from Nick’s room. He was surprised because he thought the room was empty, and he went to check on him.

He knocked on the door and noises stopped. He called out “Nick, you okay?” and there was no answer. This got the attention of the RA, who also thought Nick had gone home. After repeated knocks, the RA became concerned, got out his keys and opened the door.

He found the room to be empty, but the noises continued throughout the weekend. When Nick came back on Sunday night, he swore he had been home in Brick Township all weekend, and no more was said about it, until February.

The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was filled with studying, partying and exams…and Nick was only in his room to sleep, sometimes, as he started hanging out with the APOs, and girl who had run from his room.

Even though he was busy, Nick could no longer ignore that there were a few things were off about his room…the smell seemed to grow stronger, no matter what he did, and items like his keys and his school books would wind up in strange places. Also, a few times, after coming home from a late night (or early morning) he would find his radio was on, of his drawers open, as if someone had been looking through his desk!

After the exams were over, Nick went back home for the long break, returning to campus in late January. While he was gone, North Hall was mostly empty, but the few students who stayed, said that they heard some noises coming from the room. However, no one was concerned enough to check it out.

Spring semester started off with a major snowstorm that cancelled classes and kept everyone stuck in the dorms for two days. While some saw this as an opportunity to party…no stores were open, and not all the students had made it back to campus yet. So, Nick wound up spending most of that time in his room, listening to records, reading and watching it snow.

It was late at night, in the midst of the storm, as he was staring out of the window into the darkness. The lights were low, and he could see his reflection in the glass…when behind him, a figure appeared! He was shocked, and about to look when he heard “Don’t turn around!” Then a hand fell on his shoulder and he screamed, jumped up, but the room was empty! That was when he fainted!

He woke up the next morning on the floor. He stood up, got some clean clothes on and went down to the townhouses. He walked into the house where many of the APOs lived, went upstairs without a word to his friends, and crashed out on a spare bed. Nick looked terrible, and the brothers were concerned about him. They ran after him to find out what had happened, but he was already sound asleep.

When he woke up that evening, they dragged Nick up to the Pub and got the story out of him…how he had not only seen the ghost of the murderer, but how, as he looked up from the floor early that morning, he saw Sam’s parents looking down at him, covered in blood, but still looking concerned!

Usually, they would not have believed him, but the look on his face said it all: he was not lying, and his story chilled them to the bone! When he swore them to secrecy they agreed, and as far as we know, they never spoke of it again.

Not even during Hell Week, when all bets were off.

The next day, Nick got his things and unofficially moved down to the townhouses, and his room remained empty for the rest of the year.

When the Fall semester started later that year, two new students were assigned, but they only lasted a few weeks before they requested (demanded) a different room. This pattern repeated for several more semesters. Students assigned to the room all complained of the smell, and many reported strange activity in the room, or would awaken to find dark shadows standing over them at night. The last occupants of the room even brought in a Ouija board and tried to contact the spirits in the room. This was in 1977, and it did not go well. They claim to have heard from Sam, who told them to “Get out!” right before the board rose into the air, spun around and slammed into one of the students, breaking his nose!

After that, the college decided to give up on the room. They said that there were too many rumors, and that made it impossible to get anyone to stay there. The school had all the furniture removed, the room cleaned, and then sealed. Only Maintenance and Security had the key, no one else was to ever go into the room…for years.

Over the years, there have been some complaints about noises coming from the room, including those reported by Lerone, but as I noted, it was assumed to be rats, pipes or just sounds from other parts of the building. On the few occasions that Maintenance went in to check something in the room, there was nothing found, no sign of anyone having been in there, not even a mouse turd…just dust!

After a while, the noises were ignored, and the stories were all but forgotten. Over time a few of the new students asked why the room was always empty, but were told that “…no one knows.” This worked until Lerone, who was naturally curious, became interested in the history of room, and the story once again came to light!

A few days after hearing the story Lerone came to me with an idea. “I keep hearing noises next door in that ghost room, and I was thinking maybe we should do an Exorcism, to finally set him free!” “Set who free?” I asked. “The ghost of course, haven’t you been paying attention?” Lerone explained that he had been studying how to do an Exorcism since he first saw the movie “…and it is really nothing like the movie.” He explained. Then, he asked me to come into his room, where he took a small black book out of his desk drawer. “This book contains the Rite of Exorcism; I am going to get into that room and cleanse the evil spirit!”

I wasn’t sure what to say about this plan, so I just nodded my head and said “Cool, good luck with that!” I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my shoulder and said “I need your help.” While I was wary of messing around with anything too weird, I figured that Lerone didn’t know what he was doing, and thought the ghost story was just that…a story, so I said “Sure, what do you need?”

Lerone asked me to sit down, and proceeded to tell me his plan: He was going to find a way to get into the room, and bring in a Bible and some Holy Water (he actually had some) and perform the rite from the book. Lerone believed that this would cleanse the room and set the spirits that were trapped there free. He said that once the Exorcism was completed and the room cleansed, the noises would stop and he’d be able to sleep through the night. “Besides, it should be really interesting.”

Lerone had everything he needed, except for access to the room. We asked the RA, and while he was intrigued, he reminded us that only Maintenance and Security could get into the room. We could not go to Security for the keys, but Lerone knew someone on the Maintenance staff, a work-study student named Phil, who might be able to get the keys for us.

Phil was reluctant to help, although he thought an Exorcism would be cool, he was not excited about losing his job. It took some persuasion, and Lerone had to promise to let him help, but he finally agreed. The only problem was that he didn’t know where the key was! Whenever he could, he searched for it but could not find it anywhere! “There are just too many loose keys around!” Lerone shook his head, and Phil promised to keep trying.

After this bad news, we walked out into the hall, and stood in front of the room. We stared at the heavy wooden door, and when I looked at the doorknob, I noticed that there was some space between the door jam and the door itself. We could actually see the latch, and I said “Maybe we can get a screwdriver in there, to pull the latch open?” “No, we don’t want to break anything, then we’d get into trouble.” Lerone answered, and Phil agreed…he didn’t want to have to fix anything else.  Just then, Vince, who lived down the hall walked over. “I was listening to you guys; anyone check to see if the door was unlocked?” Lerone looked incredulous, “What, do you think we’re stupid, think we did not try the door?” With that he reached out and turned the knob, and the door swung open!

Lerone was shocked! “Oh my God!” he said, “All this time!” Vince just laughed and patted him on the shoulder. Then, we all turned to look into the room. It was night, so it was dark inside, but we could see light from the parking lot coming in through the window. At first glance, it looked like any other room, there were bunkbeds, two desks and two armoires, etc. However, when Lerone turned on the light, we saw that the room was completely empty! The tiled floor reflected the overhead light, and the cinderblock walls were painted a light blue. There was no furniture, no bulletin boards, nothing but dust!

“Kind of disappointing isn’t it?” remarked Vince, but Lerone ignored him as we walked deeper into the room. Suddenly, he stopped and shook. “I just got a chill!” he said. I walked behind him and felt the chill myself, but figured it was the power of suggestion. That said, I decided I had enough of the room and I walked out. Just as I did, the door slammed behind me! “Lerone, what are you doing?” I yelled. “What are you doing, open this door!” He shouted back, as he tried to open the door, but it would not budge! I grabbed the knob and tried to open it from my end, but it was locked!

Lerone started to pound on the other side of the door, I told him to let go of the knob and stand back, after a few tries and some pushing against the door frame, I managed to get the door opened, and Lerone came out, looking shaken, and angry! “That wasn’t funny!” he yelled. “We didn’t do it!” Vince, said. “We tried to get the door open, it just wouldn’t budge!” I added.

Lerone calmed down, and then looked back into the room. “Maybe HE did it!” “Maybe he did…” I replied, “…something weird is going on here!” Just then, the door began to slowly swing shut. Lerone stopped it, and pulled some tissues out of his pocket and stuffed it into the door jam. “I can’t have this door locking up on me, we have to do the Exorcism…and do it soon!” Then he stepped away from the door and let it close. Lerone then nodded to us, and went back to his room and shut his door. We were left in the hall way, just looking at each other. “Sounds pretty wild to me.” Said Phil. “I’m a Christian, and this ‘spirit’ stuff bothers me…a lot.” Vince told us. I told them, “I’m curious to see how this all plays out.”

A few nights later, Thursday, I was in the Pub with a couple of friends, sharing a pitcher and some stale chips, when Lerone walked in, and sat down with us. I offered him some of the beer, but he declined, “I need to keep a clear head, I’m getting ready…I’m going to do this tomorrow at Midnight!”

By the next evening, the campus had mostly emptied out, as many of the students lived within commuting distance of the college. This is what Lerone had hoped for as we had most of our wing to ourselves, the perfect setting for an Exorcism…at least we would not be bothering too many people if things got…noisy!

Lerone asked Phil and I to meet him at his room at 11pm. Vince had stayed on campus that weekend, and he came out of his room when he heard us in the hallway. As he noted, Vince was a religious person, and was not too keen on the prospect or facing a ghost or a demon, but he was also a skeptic and did not think that the story was anything more than just that…a story! Being bored, he thought this might be interesting to watch, even if from a distance.

When I got to his room, I saw that Lerone was wearing a black bathrobe over a white shirt, making him look like a priest at first glance. He was sitting on the floor, and had his book of rites and a Bible. “Wow you really are serious about this!” Phil exclaimed. “Of course, this is nothing to mess around with!” Lerone answered.

I could tell that this made Vince a bit uncomfortable, and I was not far behind him. “I hope you mean that Lerone, because it’s not good to make fun of the Gospels.” Vince told him, adding, “I’m not sure that this whole thing is for me.” Lerone gave Vince a serious look, and said “I understand, I am dead seriously, but we’re friends and we’ll still be friends if you go back to your room.” Vince nodded, and said he’d stick with us for a little bit longer. Lerone said “Thank you, and remember, you can leave whenever you like.”

With that, Lerone told us it was time to get started. He had Phil hold the Holy Water and the candles, while giving me the Bible. By the time we walked out of his room to go next door, a few other guys had gathered in the hall, including Chuck (Phil’s roommate) and Adolphus, a big guy, who was a member of the football team. So, we had an audience as we opened the door to the empty room, and walked in.

Lerone set up a small TV tray in the middle of the room, lit the two candles, asked Phil to turn off the lights, and opened his book to the Rites of Exorcism. “Where did you even get that book from?” Phil asked. “It was in the library, in the Reserve Stacks!” Lerone answer, and then he turned to me and said “When I tell you to, read these verses here…” pointing to Mark 5: 1 -13, the story of Jesus casting out the demon called ‘Legion’. I agreed, but was feeling a bit anxious, as the atmosphere in the room grew heavy. That was about the time that Vince turned and walked back out to the hall, to stand next to Adolphus. They both looked uneasy. This did not help me feel any better, as “Dolphie” was never afraid of anything!

For a moment, Lerone stood before the table, silently reading through the Rite, while our audience grew and got louder. He turned and said “Please…we need silence for this!” There were some snickers in the back, but for the most part the guys got quiet. A few were drinking beer and a little buzzed, and while amused, they were trying to stay respectful. Lerone was a little bit “off” but we all liked him.

Once it was quiet, Lerone stood for a moment, and then began reciting the words from the book. As he continued, the room seemed to close in on us, the air got heavier, and it seemed to get even darker! I knew this had to be my imagination, but it still freaked me out! I looked to Phil, and he also seemed anxious. Then I noticed that the brightly lit hallway seemed a lot farther away than 15 feet!

Then, at the moment when Lerone asked me to read from the Bible, the door slammed shut, and the candle blew out! Phil jumped when the door slammed, then he tried to turn on the lights, but they did not work. The door would not open either, and Phil yelled to the guys in the hall to “Open up, that wasn’t funny!” I too thought the guys were playing a trick on us, I knew the circuit breaker box was open, and figured they killed the power too. I was about to join Phil, when Lerone told us “Stop, be quiet…we’re close!”

Even with the lights from the parking lot, it was nearly pitch dark in the room. When Lerone got the candles re-lit, and as their soft light filled the room, we were shocked! The room was no longer empty!

There were two beds, one on either side of the room, two cluttered desks, and two of the standard college armoires. A radio glowed in the corner, and the sound of “A Lighter Shade of Pale” came from it! As my eyes adjusted, I could see figures on each of the beds, not moving, and that was when the smell, a rotten, garbage smell, hit us! Before we could react, a figure materialized in front of the window!

Both Phil and I gasped, but Lerone shushed us and asked me to start reading the passage!

As I read, the figure in front of the window became more solid. The face looked more sad than menacing, and I began to feel great empathy for it as I read through the story of Jesus casting out the demon! When I read verse 8, where Jesus said “Come out of this man, you impure spirit!” and the demon begged to be cast into the swine, Lerone yelled “I cast you out!” and directed Phil to splash the Holy Water! At that moment, the figure burst into a cloud of fireflies! Lerone then reached out and opened the window as I continued to read, and the fireflies flew out into the chilly November evening!

The lights came back on by themselves, and it showed us that the room was, in fact, empty! Then, Vince swung the door open from the hallway, and I could see the shocked look on the faces of the guys gathered in the hall! With the air blowing in through the open window, and the lights back on, the room felt just like any other vacant space!

“I think that worked!” I said to Lerone, who looked as surprised as I felt! “I think it really did!” he agreed, then he blew out the candles, grabbed the table, shut the window and we turned off the lights and walked out of the room. As door closed, I looked at my watch, to see that it was only 12:45am, all this had taken place in the space of about 45 minutes!

As we walked back to Lerone’s room, Dolphie said “Wow, what was that?” Chuck answered, “That was wild!” Vince added, “I hope I never see anything like that again!” It turns out that while we were shut up in the room, the guys in the hall could hear everything that was going on inside. They also reported seeing a bright light coming out from under the door…something we could not account for. They also said they heard a high-pitched scream about the same time that the figure burst into fireflies!

Phil didn’t say anything, he just put the Holy Water down on Lerone’s desk and then he and Chuck went back to their room! I had nothing to say either, though I tried to make some sense of everything, every time I started to speak, it came out wrong. Finally, I just told Lerone “That was amazing!” wished him a good night, and went back to my room.

As far as I know, no one ever reported any other noises or strangeness associated with that room ever again. However, no one was assigned that room again either. The story soon faded to legend, and while only a handful of people witnessed the “Exorcism”, dozens later claimed to have seen it in person, including a few who were not even enrolled in the school when it happened!

By the time I was in my Senior year, the story had grown outrageous, with demons blowing the door off the hinges and Legion itself appearing to the students in the hall! This led to many believing that it was all made up, without a shred of truth, which was fine as far as we were concerned. Lerone and I went our separate ways, but stayed friendly until we were both finished with school, and then we lost track of each other.

Sadly, years later, I learned that he passed away, which was a great loss. They don’t make guys like Lerone every day, to say he was unique would be an under-statement!

The school closed in 1995, and North Hall, along with half of the campus was torn down and replaced by a development of nice, high-end homes (as an attempt to revitalize the community). Shortly before the building was lost, I went back to the campus with my daughter, to show her what was once a big part of my life. As we walked through the abandoned campus, with our Boxer on a leash, the dog suddenly looked up toward one of the windows on the second floor of the building. I followed her gaze and noticed that she was pointing right toward THE room! The windows were now gone, and I could see inside, and for a moment, I swore I could see a shadow standing just inside the room, under a crumbling plaster ceiling. I figured it was a trick of the light, or maybe a homeless person who was squatting. Just then, a cop pulled up and suggested that we were not in a good spot for sight-seeing!

And I left the campus, as I knew it, for the last time.

What I saw, does make me wonder, if the residents of that new community ever wake up late at night to her the sound of “A Lighter Shade of Pale” drifting across their backyards, or feel the hairs on the back of their neck rising, as if a sad and broken pair of eyes have fallen upon them.

Actually, I hope they do not, I hope that whoever, or whatever, was in that room is now free.

It Stays With Us

May 24, 2020 – the seventh Sunday of Easter

Acts 1:6-14

The Ascension of Jesus

In today’s reading from Acts we have a contradiction: We know that Christ is still alive and active in the world, yet, we are told of his Ascension into the heavens…

How can both be true?

Either Christ is still here with us, or has ascended to the Father and will come again in glory, right?

Perhaps, both CAN be true…

When the disciples ask Jesus if his ascension means that the Day of the Lord is at hand, he tells them, that it is not, not yet any way.

This day had been foretold by the prophets, as the time when all the barriers between ourselves and God would be removed, and the Kingdom of God would be right here…where we are!

On that day, God’s act of creation would be completed!

So, while Jesus tells the disciples that the Day of the Lord had not yet arrived, he does task the disciples, and each of us, with sharing the good news of God’s love “…to the ends of the earth.”

He calls them to be Christ in the world, to help bring about the Day of the Lord, to make the Kingdom a reality in our midst!

To share all that he taught them.

After all, Jesus was a teacher, and like any good teacher, his lessons never end, we continue to learn from him…every day.

And good teaching stays with us.

My father taught Math and Computer Science at Upsala in East Orange, NJ, this meant that I grew up as a ‘campus brat’, with life revolving around the school…and I am proud to say that I am also a graduate of the college.

It was in existence for just over 100 years, and touched many lives, producing a few authors, athletes and actors.

Along with the rest of us, who went into a variety of professions, from doctors to business people and even quite a few ministers, and…of course, teachers.

Unfortunately, the school closed about 25 years ago, with half of the campus replaced by a development, and the classroom buildings turned into a public High School.

However, even though the school itself has closed, it’s teachings have stayed with us…

And in many ways, it lives on through all of us who get together to share what he learned there, and this is not only the many teachers who graduated to teach others, but also the rest of us, who took this knowledge into our own professions.

Upsala’s legacy also lives on in the many friendships and families founded on campus, and in the stories we share, both in person and on Social Media…and through sharing these stories many new people learn about this place that was so important to all of us.

Each of us carries the story of Upsala with us…meaning that it is still with us, even though has now become a part of history.

Stories can bind us together, breaking down barriers of misunderstanding and disagreement, and can call us to reconciliation and healing in the midst of our brokenness bringing us to common ground.

Because stories teach us about each other, and about the world we share…

Whether they are stories about a school, or if they are stories about Jesus.

These stories keep memory and learning alive.

And where we find this common ground, we have a basis for growth…a starting point for moving forward, for our own ascension to making our world a better place.

This brings us closer to the time the disciples were asking Jesus about, the Day of the Lord.

In order to move us forward towards that day, we need each other’s help, which is why we are called to invite others to join us, just as Matthias was called to join the disciples, replacing the tragic Judas.

Through this, we are reminded that all of us who follow Jesus are disciples…it is not an exclusive club, but a family. We can all carry the light of the Gospel, and the more who carry this light, the brighter it shines!

Although Jesus has ascended, Christ is still with us, through the disciples, who were tasked to carry out his ministry in the world…

And we are all disciples.

Through each of us, Christ is right here in our world, and always will be.

Just as the alumni of Upsala have keeping the stories and teaching of that school alive, although it has closed.

Christ is alive when we offer each other support through the long uncertain days, when we wear a mask, and take other precautions to protect ourselves, our loved ones, and those around us…even if it is inconvenient, even if we don’t like it.

We act as Christ when we treat others with respect and compassion…even those we disagree with, or don’t necessarily like.

We are being Christ in our world when we seek reconciliation, where others foment discord, when we build partnerships that can offer us all support in the face of commons foes, not just the virus, but also ignorance and fear.

When we shine the light of God’s gracious love into all the dark places where hate can fester…we are making Christ known, right where we are, and the Kingdom comes closer to being a reality in our world.

So yes, Jesus can be ascended and seated on the right hand of God, and Christ can be right here with us, all at the same time!

This is because we are all in the same place, the risen Christ is not far off in the heavens, but in our midst…for wherever we are together, whenever we are working to help each other, and when we are gathered in praise and worship (even if Socially Distant) God is with us.

When God is with us, Christ is alive, and the Kingdom is within our grasp!

 

 

Peace Be With Us

 

April 19, 2020; Second Sunday of Easter

John 20:19-31

I have red hair, when I was young, it was really red…and I was often reminded of this fact, by strangers, old ladies at church, and bullies.

One day, when I was in second grade, I ran afoul of said bullies, and after letting them know that I did not appreciate their teasing, they offered to meet up with me after school to discuss the situation further: a classic set up, right out of the movies.

However, it was not quite as much fun in real life.

So, when school ended, I found myself sheltering in place. I was smart enough to stay near the office, but could see the bullies loitering just outside. I knew I was safe for the moment, but would not be able to stay there for long, and was thinking of an exit strategy, but not coming up with anything practical.

All I knew was that it was not safe to go outside.

I was thinking about my chances of taking another exit, thinking they could not be watching both the front and back doors at the same time…right? Then I saw a rattling old ’65 Valiant pull up to the curb!

It was my big brother Pete!

I was not expecting him, but my mother had asked him to pick me up after school, because there was big news!

When I walked out of the school, the bullies approached, but Pete saw them and told them to “get lost” and they backed away!

I was safe, at least for that afternoon!

When I got home, my mother told me I was changing schools!

(Yes, this really happened)

I would have to get used to a ‘new normal’ but at least those bullies wouldn’t bother me again!

And I knew that no matter what happened, that I would always have someone watching my back, always have someone to support me…just like Pete did, when he chased off the bullies.

In today’s Gospel, we find the disciples, also sheltering in place.

They were afraid to go out…because it was dangerous out there.

I remember hearing this Gospel in church, as a child, and thinking that they lacked faith in God, faith in the words of Jesus.

Wondering why they did not go out boldly and stand up their bullies…although I used caution with my own.

Looking down on them because they were afraid, and hiding.

However, these were thoughts of a child, and I was mistaken. For the disciples, going out WAS dangerous!

It would have put their lives, and the lives of those they loved, at risk because the same people who had executed Jesus wanted to kill them as well!

So, the disciples stayed hidden, and waited until it was safe to go outside; although they did not know when that would be.

While in hiding behind locked doors, they did their best to make sense of everything that had happened:

The arrest, torture and death of Jesus, the threats given by those in power, and now, the stories of his return! None of it made any sense, no wonder the disciples were afraid and confused.

They were facing an uncertain future. They knew it would be different, but had no idea what it would be like…yet.

But, for the moment, they knew it was better for them to play it safe, and stay in hiding.

There are some of us who may be able to relate to how the disciples were feeling on this evening.

Then, in the midst of their fear, sorrow and confusion, Jesus was with them!

And he appeared right when they needed him!

Just like my brother Pete did on that afternoon!

On this evening, the disciples needed hope, they needed to have something to give them peace, they needed Jesus!

He knew this, and so the first thing Jesus said to them was “Peace be with you”.

Usually, it is a simple greeting, but here, in the midst of their hiding place, these words became something more!

The last thing the disciples were feeling at that moment was peace.

Jesus’ greeting was also a sincere wish calm, a message of hope in the midst of a very difficult time.

Telling them, “Peace be with you” was a way of letting the disciples know that they were not alone, that God was still with them…that the promise of Christ, the promise of new life, was at hand…and this was reason for peace!

And this gift was given to them…and to all of us!

Then, Jesus asks us all to go out into the world, to tell others the good news, to share this gift of peace with a troubled world.

It is not an easy task, as our world is unsettled, and not everyone wants to hear this message of peace, nor does everyone want to hear the about God’s presence in our world.

The disciples would discover this for themselves, and that is why their road was not an easy one, but Jesus never promised that following him would be easy. There were plenty of reasons for them to have fear and uncertainty, but in the words of Jesus: “Peace be with you” there is hope, and strength.

Because with these words, Jesus is reminding the disciples that they are not alone, that they were part of the miracle of the Resurrection.

That faith can overcome fear.

Our lives are not easy either, even without a pandemic there are plenty of reasons to feel fear and uncertainty…

And at a time like this, it is even more important to be at peace, to seek out the faith that can quiet our fear, the hope that is found in knowing that God’s love surrounds always.

It is also important to remember that not only did Jesus wish us peace, but he also called upon us to be peace in our world…and to share this gift with our troubled world.

For the more we share God’s love and grace with each other the stronger it grows!

When we show compassion to those who are struggling, offer comfort to those who mourn, we are sharing our faith, faith that speaks to fear and uncertainty.

It is together that we will find the peace that we need to face the challenges of today, together that we will become the peace we need to move forward into our new normal…as we adjust to a new way of life in the wake of the virus.

In our new normal, it will be even more important for us to watch out for each other; not only to share this peace, but to be that peace!

May the peace of the Lord be with us all.

Flipped

I was Sober for a change…that’s important to note.

It had been at least two weeks since I had a drink or illegal drug, because I had been very sick. In fact, I had spent ten days in the hospital, and only got home a few days earlier, just in time for Christmas.

It was December 29^th 1982, and the joy of being home from the hospital, along with the ‘magic’ of Christmas, had faded. I was already becoming bored. Due to my illness I could not drink, there was no pot to smoke, and while I was a student at Upsala College, right down the street, most of my friends had headed home for the Holidays.

Fortunately, my sister and her kids had come over, which broke up the boredom; however, she was having car trouble and was worried about making it back home to Staten Island, so our father volunteered to go with her in case the car broke down, and asked me to follow in the Toyota, so I could give him a ride home. I was happy to have something to do and jumped at the chance.

My two nieces, who were 8 and 6 wanted to ride with me, so I made sure they were safely secured in the back seat, with their seat-belts before we left.

As her car was questionable, and her mechanic was on the Staten Island side of the bridge, my sister decided to take the local route, through Bayonne and across the bridge. There were lights on almost every corner and I was having trouble keeping up with her dying Volvo. I usually drive pretty fast, but I had my nieces in the car…and it is pretty difficult to drive fast on the streets of Bayonne…even without all those traffic lights.

I remember making a comment about the importance of not having an accident while trying to keep up, but before long we got to the bridge, and we were right behind the Volvo…all was going to be fine, we were almost to our destination.

As we got onto the bridge, I was going around 40 or 45 (though the limit was about 35), but I was keeping up with traffic. I distinctly remember passing the Police car, reminding myself to be careful, as I did not want a ticket. Then, I ignored my own warning…knowing there was a toll on the other end of the bridge, I took my eyes off the road for a moment, as I reached over to the passenger seat to get my wallet.

When I did, my hand must have slipped on the wheel, because when I looked up, we were heading straight toward the high divider! I turned the wheel sharply but still caught the edge and the car when up the divider and turned on its side! Before I knew what was going on, I looked out of the passenger window and could see only asphalt going by…and I knew that this could not be right!

At that point, all I wanted was to get the car back up on its wheels, I thought this would fix everything, and so I turned the wheel, although I knew that it was useless, none of the tires were touching the ground as this point…but somehow, it worked and the car righted itself and I was able to turn on my signal and pull over to the shoulder.

Note that all this happened in heavy traffic, but we did not hit any other cars!

Once we were stopped, I released the death-grip I had on the wheel, put on the emergency brake and turned around to check on my nieces…above all else, I prayed that they were not hurt!

My older niece was hysterical and crying, but said she wasn’t hurt…to be honest, I felt the same way, bordering on shock! My younger niece, who was about 6, was laughing and asked me “Can we do that again?”

I looked out of the windshield and saw that the Volvo had stopped a few yards ahead and my father and sister were running towards us. However, before they reached the car, there was a knock on my side window, it was a cop!

I rolled my window down and he asked if we were all okay, and I told I thought we were, he saw that the girls were in the back with seat-belts on, and just then my sister appeared and began checking on them. Once it was clear that we were okay…just shaken up, the cop told me that he was impressed that I had gotten such distance and altitude out of the Toyota, and asked “How did you get it back up on the road?”

I honestly answered, “I don’t know, I just kept turning the wheel and that worked!”

By then, other cops had arrived, and the officer I was talking to asked me how fast I was going. I told him about 45, and he said “No, the speed limit is 35, you were going 35, right?” I did not get it at first, and wanted to be honest but he insisted, and I got it just in time to confirm “Yes, I was going 35!” just as another cop showed up to hear it!

My thinking is that he was not anxious to give me a speeding ticket, or to see me get any charges, considering that I did not hit anyone else, the girls were belted and safe, and I was clearly sober.

Although it had been on its side, sliding along the on-ramp to the Bayonne bridge, my father (I was done driving for the day) was able to drive the Toyota off the bridge and to my sister’s mechanic a few blocks away. From there we got a flatbed to take my father, myself and the wounded Toyota back to New Jersey, where we met up with my mother.

I was terrified that she would be mad at me…I mean really mad, she had a temper, and this time, it would have been justified. When we got out of the truck, I approached her with caution, telling her how sorry I was (that was not a lie) and I braced for whatever punishment I would receive, but instead she hugged me, telling me she was just glad that we were all okay, and that “…sheet metal can be replaced, but we could not!”

Later, she said that it was probably too soon for me to be driving again after being so sick, but I never bought it, I knew that I had been distracted by the kids and worrying about paying the toll, but in the long-run, I had to admit that it really was just an accident, and I learned to forgive myself.

And, the Toyota was eventually fixed, and eventually, I bought it off of my parents and drove it until the Summer of ’87, when once more it wound up on its side…this time it was parked in front of my apartment on Staten Island (having moved down the street from my sister, when I worked on Wall Street), and another driver backed into it, ending its valiant life!

As for my nieces, they are now adults with families of their own, and doing just fine; although, my older niece did flip over a Ford Aerostar when she was a teen, but maybe the experience in the Toyota helped her, as she and her passengers survived that crash with no problems.

Funny how life comes around like that…from time to time.

 

A depiction of the crash I drew shortly after the event.

Sharing a Laugh With Dad

I have many good memories of my dad, from him carrying me up to bed at night (when I was very little) piggy back, when he “defended” me from my from my older brothers’ teasing, watching him paint the house when I was nine, multiple camping and road trips…and just spending time with him.

I also remember the last few years of his life, as he was being taken by Parkinson’s, and the time I got to spend with him as he faded into his disease.

However, one of my best memories, is of a day when we went out to the Reservation, a wooded area near where we lived. I’d been there before with the whole family and my older brothers, but this time it was just me and my dad!

I remember it was cold, and must have been late afternoon, as the sun was going down by the time we left.

We explored the woods together, as we hiked the trails, and he pointed out plants and

trees, and told me about reading the sky (he’d been a Meteorologist during the war), and as we walked along, I started quoting a Yogi Bear cartoon that I’d seen recently, where he was hit by a tree. I pointed to the trees, and repeated what Yogi said, when he was struck by the falling tree, and said “I thought I saw a Sycamore!” and my dad laughed!

It was some time later, when we were on our way to the Essex Green shopping Center, in West Orange, driving along in the old Ford Country Squire wagon, when I pointed to the trees going by and said “I thought I saw a Sycamore!” and he immediately caught on and burst out laughing!

My father was an incredibly intelligent person, who taught math and computers on the college level. He also had a deep faith in Christ, and lived that faith through being kind and compassionate in his life. He would never hesitate to speak for others or help those in need. In addition to all this, he had a devastatingly dry sense of humor! He had a dry sense of humor and the ability to enjoy a good laugh, even at the simplest things…this is what made him the person he was, what completely the picture.

These are many of the qualities that I admired about him, and those that I remember the most when I think of my dad, and the ones I try the hardest to emulate in my own life, and my own journey as a father…though I will never be the man he was, I would be honored to be considered as half as good a father and person as he was.

And I am the person I am today in large part due to his influence, gifts that I hope I have passed on to my own child as I have raised her to the best of my ability.

Milo’s Dad

 

I remember how the old train car rattled and creaked.

It still had the old wicker seats, the ones where the backs moved so you could change the direction you sat, either facing the front or the back on the train. It also had the globe lights and faded brass fittings. Fortunately, the windows also opened, which was our only source of ‘air conditioning’ as the fans mounted along the ceiling were ineffective.

Milo’s dad took this train every day during his commute to his Publishing job in New York City (almost the same commute as I would be taking about 15 years later), and he explained that this was one of the old Eerie Lackawanna train cars, untouched since the 1920’s (fifty years in the past); I was impressed, but I think he was being sarcastic. We were on our way to Hoboken, where we would visit the famous (though I did not know it then) Clam Broth House, where we would feast on steamed clams!

I was disappointed that there were not fried, until I got a good taste of the fare.

I am not sure if we made it into Manhattan that day…though I do not think so, as the point was to make it to Hoboken, where Milo’s dad had some errands to run, and to visit the restaurant.

“Milo” was one of my best friends.

I had known him so long that I do not even remember when we met, although we knew each other from church, where our parents had become friends. Milo and I would hang out a lot together, both at church and when we could get rides to each other’s houses. He lived in West Orange; I was in East Orange. Although he lived in a nicer neighborhood, he had smaller house. I remember the he shared a room with his sister, there was small partition between the rooms, closed off by a curtain, but she had to walk through his room to get to the hall, bathroom and stairs. This was annoying for them both, but irrelevant in terms of this story, except that it did lead to some Barbie and GI Joe interaction from time to time (always platonic) when I was over there playing.

I also remember that Milo had a great comic book collection, and could skateboard better than me (not really difficult to do).

During the winter, we would sometimes go to the sledding hill at South Mountain, until it was closed for safety (at the bottom of the hill was a busy street, and there were no fences, which led to some unfortunate results), during the summers we’d sometimes go to the YMCA, Vacation Bible School, or just explore the neighborhood with the other kids.

But mostly, we saw each other at church. In fact it was after the service one day, during the Social Hour, that Milo and I were wrestling, when he pushed me, causing me to crack head on a step…leading to yet another trip to the ER and another cool scar!

This did not hurt our friendship at all, as I never thought to blame him, it was only an accident, just like when I broke my toe while playing Batman and The Joker with another friend.

However, our friendship did end a short time later, very suddenly during a summer vacation trip.

Because my father was a College Professor, we would often take long summer vacation trips to see friends and family of to go camping. As this was before the internet or smartphones, when on these trips, we were out of the loop in regard to news from home.

Therefore, every few days my mother would call home and talk to one of my older brothers to check on the house, dogs, etc. It was during one of these calls that she found out that Milo’s dad ‘came-out’ to his mom, which was not well received after 20 years of marriage, and she abruptly took the kids and moved home to Iowa.

I never knew my parents to engage in gossip, but this was pretty big news…especially for the mid-seventies, and being friends, my parents were worried about the impact on the whole family.

I was shocked when I heard the news, and found it hard to understand what had actually happened. Remember, I was a kid and I really did not k now a lot about what it meant to be Gay back then…only what I saw on TV and heard from my friends.

With this as a reference, I thought that this was terrible news, and felt so sad for Milo, his sister and their mother…and I was sad that I had lost a friend.

By the time we got home from vacation, the rumor-mill was in overdrive, and it was not kind to Milo’s dad as no one was feeling a whole lot of sympathy for him. The focus was on the rest of the family, and he was seen as being selfish and cruel to have been ‘living a lie’ for so long.

As if he had a choice.

Despite all the talk, and the occasional dirty look, Milo’s dad continued to come to church, but was kept at arm’s length by most of the kids who had known him through Milo and his sister. Although it was never said out loud, and there was never any reason for it, there was the vague perception he might be a threat to us…especially the boys.

While this was very ignorant of us, we were kids, the sad thing is that it was not just kids who felt this way.

It was not that we meant to be mean, we just missed our friend, and we didn’t get it…we did not understand.

A few years after the break-up and divorce, Milo and his sister came back for a visit. Unfortunately, I did not get to spend much time with my friends. I only saw them once after church, and due to the circumstances and gossip, it was awkward – no one knew what to say and it was as if they were strangers. Within the week they were back on their way to Iowa, and I never saw them again.

As far as I remember, my parents did not buy into all this talk. They continued to show friendship and support to Milo’s dad and offered their support. Any time they caught me repeating gossip or expressing any other Homophobia, I would be chastised and told to learn more about the subject, instead of listening to rumors.

I would like to say I listened…but learning would take some time.

It wasn’t until I was well into my high school years, that my thinking began to change. That was when I found out that (gasp) I knew more than one LGBTQ person, and once I really got to really know these people, I realized that they are just that: people!

It was one of those real ‘duh’ moments.

As I continued to grow up and learn, I began to see the challenges that LGBTQ people have had to face in their lives, simply for being themselves, and looking for their own happiness in life. They have been denied housing, education, jobs, marriage, parenthood, and they have been marginalized, imprisoned, beaten and killed.

While in Seminary, I got the opportunity to spend time with people who were struggling with, and dying from, AIDS. I also got to see how many other people were suffering due to this new prejudice (on top of all the old ones), which was caused by the fear of this disease. I had the opportunity to listen to their stories and I was moved by them.

This is how I learned, and learning opens minds.

Today, I will sometimes remember Milo’s dad, and wonder about what it must have been like for him, how difficult it must have been for him. So many of us were focused on Milo, his sister and mom, and tended to think of his dad as a ‘bad guy’ for up-ending their lives.

Yet, he paid a heavy price for coming out. His confession broke his family, his kids were taken away from him, he lost friendships, which took away a lot of the support that could have seen him through these difficult times. I remember him as a good person, kind and thoughtful, and he did not deserve the treatment he received.

It is easy to excuse my behavior, by saying I not know any better, that I was just a kid, but to do so ignores what I was taught, both by my parents and by my church.

Every Sunday we heard preaching about the Grace of God, which was given for ALL people through the sacrifice of Christ. We heard how Jesus reached out to those who were homeless, imprisoned, marginalized, and embraced all people as God’s children.

We learned that Jesus was concerned about how we treated each other, calling upon all his followers to treat others with compassion, with love.

From all that I learned, I do not believe that Jesus would have been joining in on the gossip and recrimination, but he would have embraced Milo’s dad with understanding, and offered him comfort in the midst of his struggles and pain.

What I should have learned (if I was paying attention) was that none of us have any business throwing stones, but that we should be following the example of Jesus, who spoke out for those who knew injustice and prejudice.

The truth is that we should have known better, I knew Milo’s dad for most of my life, should have been able to see him as the person he was, and not as a label.

Looking back, I realize it took real courage for him to stay involved in our church and community after he came out. It might have been easier for him if he had moved away, and started over somewhere new, like Manhattan, which was a little more welcoming, and closer to his work.

Yet, he stayed long enough to find some small measure of acceptance once again.

Recently, there has been some controversy about the Pride events being held in June, with a few saying “Why do THEY have to make a big deal out of it, why can’t they just live their lives?” There was even a call for a “Straight Pride” march in Boston!

These calls miss the whole point of the Pride events…

It would be great if “they” could just live their lives as choose, in peace, without having to face prejudice and scorn. However, even today it is not that easy. LGBTQ people are still facing grave injustice and stereotypes, and they are still being beaten and killed for being who they are.

It certainly wasn’t that easy for Milo’s dad.

I liked him and looked up to him when I was still friends with Milo, before he told his truth. Today, I can admire him for his courage, and am sorry for how I treated him and others before I grew-up and learned better.

Knowing better is helpful, but I am no saint, and still have so much to learn (or unlearn), I still struggle with many prejudices, but at least I am aware of them and am trying to be a better person.

I am also looking forward to the time when we won’t give a second thought to who anyone chooses to love and care for, because what really matters is LOVE, expressed and shared!

For in this broken and divisive world herein lies our hope: that we follow the call of Christ to Love one another above and beyond all the other bullshit that can get in the way.

 

Whatever it Takes

The weather reports called for another round of bad weather: snow, rain, and maybe some ice, just to make things extra special!

So, we begin to make plans, so that we have plenty of milk and bread to make it through the long hours (may as much as 12) of being snowed in. Trips to the store are made, invitations declined, gas tanks are filled up and we settle in for some binge-watching before having to go out and shovel snow (or ask my daughter’s boyfriend to do it for me).

When it gets nasty like this, I do not like to go out, unless I absolutely have to, because I hate driving in the snow and ice! If I can I will even call off of work if I know the weather will be awful, turn down invitations, and change plans!

There have been times when I was reluctant to walk down the street to church, make the short trip to visit with my girlfriend, or go to one of my 12-step meetings – even the one held just down the street.

Often this makes good sense, driving during a winter storm can be dangerous…I have even gotten seriously injured on my front walk when I slipped on the ice! However, there are times when I have used the weather as an excuse to simply stay at home.

This is significant because when I was drinking, there wasn’t much that could keep me from the love of my life: alcohol!

I remember one evening, while I was in college, and it was snowing intensely, after only a couple of hours the roads had filled with snow, all but halting all traffic! I could have happily stayed in for the night, but I had no booze, and that simply could not stand!

How could I face a snowstorm sober???

So, I put on my boots (which were not waterproof) my puffy goose-down coat (which had seen better days) and gloves, put up my hood, and ventured out into the storm! The wind was howling, driving the snow into my face like little daggers! It was coming down so quickly that the plows could not keep up with it, so I had the road to myself as I trudged along toward the liquor store!

Even in the road, the going was slow as I was walking against the wind and the snow was getting deeper all the time. When I was about halfway there, had to stop for a minute to let a plow go by, chains clinking on the road. As I stood there, I was struck by the thought that the liquor store might be closed! I pushed that horrible thought out of my head, and continued on…I was on a mission!

Due to the weather and harsh conditions, the trip took twice as long as usual. I was cold and wet and had a tough moment as I turned the corner, and it looked like the place might not be open after all! Then I saw the lights, and watched someone leaving, and I was relieved! The front of the place was a regular liquor store, but in the back was a bar. Despite the weather, and the fact that I hadn’t seen anyone other than the plow out on the roads, the bar was packed! I can still remember how warm it was in the store, the smell of cigarette smoke and the music coming from the bar…and it was almost enough to make me forget about the weather!

However, it was not enough to get me to forget about my mission!

I had been going to this place to buy beer and liquor for years. When I was a kid, I would often go with one of my brothers to buy beer or wine for a family dinner, and I would run in while he was waiting in the car, double-parked. I would point outside and tell the clerk the purchase was for him…and as it was the 70s, and he could not care less, I never had a problem when I went there, even when underage.

This time was no different, the clerk just nodded and sold me the pint bottle of cheap whiskey that I wanted, and a six of Old Milwaukee (top-shelf all the way), and I headed back out into the storm! I slogged back to the dorm, desperately trying to keep the paper grocery bag from completely disintegrating!

When I got back, I dried off, warmed up, and then proceeded to drink the pint and the beer while watching my little black and white TV, and when it was all over, I was sick, the room was spinning, and I still wanted more…instead, I just passed out!

When new in Recovery, I was told if I put half the effort into my Sobriety as I had put into getting drunk, that I would be doing sure to be a success!

Whenever I am feeling lazy, and am looking for an excuse to not do what I need to take care of myself, i.e. going to a meeting, I often remember of that long walk through the storm, just to get some cheap booze, and I think of what I was told about doing whatever it takes to stay Sober!

Sometimes I even listen to that advice and get off my butt!

Recovery has seen me through many worse storms that the one I walked through that night, giving me the tools to face some of the most awful challenges that life has thrown at me, and still stay Sober! These tools are not just the steps, but also the people (both in and out of Recovery) who have been there to support me!

In the same way, what I have faced has helped me to give support to other people who are facing some of the same challenges in their lives…and this is how we work together to not only survive the storms, but to thrive in spite of them!

One day at a time.

Orange Head & Pink Hair

We moved into the big house in East Orange in July of 1969, right around the time of the moon landing. It was a beautiful house, on a tree-lined street of well-kept homes, and much larger than our old house in West Orange.

I had left behind my old school, my neighborhood friends, and moved to a new town. Although it was not a great distance, the move changed everything. The new neighborhood looked nice, and it was close to where my dad worked as a College Professor, but there weren’t a lot of kids my age, and the once who were there did not want to make friends. The folks already living there were well off, and we were not (though we were not poor either) and they came off as somewhat snobby.

In addition, about the time we were moving in, many of the neighbors were making plans to move out!

It was less than two years after the Newark Riots, and ‘White Flight’ was underway. It did not help that the riots took place only a few miles away. One kid told me about watching the National Guard trucks going up Park Avenue (at the end of our street) on their way to the riots.

This is probably why we got our house at such a good price, the family who lived there before us were among the many who were getting out of town. Within the next two years the ‘demographic’ of the neighborhood changed, as the old residents moved away! All of the new families were African-American, and much nicer than those who left…and I actually made a few friends.

When I started first grade in the fall of 1970, I found that I was one of a few white kids in the school, and the only one with bright red hair and blue eyes! This proved to be problematic for me, although most of the kids were fine, a few (like in any other school) enjoyed teasing and bullying me!

Before long, even my friends were calling me “Orange Head”; which was not as bad as getting threatened and chased (with intent to injure) because I looked different from anyone else. This made me a frequent target, and on more than one occasion, the kids who were my friends, helped me to get out of the back door of the school, telling me to hit the ground running…because the bullies were waiting for me at the front door!

This was not the first time being a red-head caused me problems, and while it was an extreme case, it would not be the last time in my life that having red hair caused me problems.

All my life, people have been reminding me of my hair color!

I was adopted by my family after having come as a foster child. As I was the only one in my family who was not biological, it was clear that I did not quite fit in with everyone else! They all had dark blond or brunette hair (except for my dad, who really was mostly bald) and I did not.

Of course, people were not shy about pointing this out! Often, when I was out and about with my family, people would point out “You have red hair!”

Of course, I knew I had red hair, it would be hard not to know that, and if I forgot, there were plenty of people to remind me of that fact!

Then, this initial revelation was usually followed up by the question “Where did you get that from?” to which I would happily answer “Because I was adopted!” Which seemed like a solid reasoning to me…it is true, I was the only one with red hair because I was adopted!

The old ladies at church would comment on how amazing my hair was, and tell me that “…the girls are going to LOVE you!” This made me blush at first, but as I got closer to my teens, I began to wonder when this might happen. While I might have been disappointed, at least they weren’t teasing me…they actually thought my hair was nice.

However, there were plenty of adults who did tease. Although they were good natured about it, I was still bothered. At the Chicken Delight where my brothers worked (and where I had my first job), the boss, Ritchie, took to saying that I had “pink hair”! Something he continued to tease me with until he passed away, and then came back when I wound up working with some of the Chicken Delight people at The Town Pub in 1983!

They called me “Jimmy Olsen” because I was interning with a newspaper, until Frank reminded me that I had “pink hair”! I got teased a lot, but it was a guy thing…and meant that I was now a part of the team (or so I like to tell myself).

Even when I went to a new school halfway through third grade, where my class was more diverse, the red hair made me stand out. Even through college, and entering the workforce, I was always reminded that I had an “orange head” and “pink hair”….that I was different!

No wonder I have often struggled to ‘find my place’ in the world, between being an adoptee and a red head, not to mention that I have never been very good at sports (and generally klutzy). However, I do not believe I was every treated like I did not belong in my family, quite the opposite! As for my lack of skill (or interest) in sports, this has freed me up for other pursuits, like my (attempt at) writing, love of movies and books…as well as hiking, and other activities.

My red hair has caused me to stand out. It has gotten me a lot of attention, both good and bad, and it has led me to become less self-centered (a work in progress), and think more about the feelings of others, giving me empathy for those who are facing their own struggles – even (to a point) for the bullies themselves…as they are often very broken people.

The teasing that I got for my hair color (and a few other things) also helped me to grow a thick skin, I had to…if I took all that to heart, I would have never survived. This thick skin has served me well in business, when working with customers, and in my personal life and volunteering, allowing me to face some awful situations without panic…even when I really wanted to!

My life has also taught me how we are all different, but also have so much in common with each other. I have learned the value of acceptance, and respect for each other, because there are no “minorities” when we are all part of the same human family, and being a part of the family doesn’t mean we have to agree on everything, or even always like each other; it does mean that we are all in this together, and the only way we can move forward is together.

Today, while the color has faded, my hair is still reddish, but my main reason for gratitude is that I still have most of it! Red hair has impacted the course of my life, for better and for worse, but I am glad that I was born with it.

I was also nice pass on this trait to my lovely daughter, who has thick bright red hair…which has caused her some embarrassment. She has tried to tone down her hair color by using black dye, but has been only relatively successful, as her natural color cannot be completely hidden away, much like her personality. Today she is the one who is constant reminded “You have red hair” over and over again!

At least it’s not orange or pink!

Instigators

Today’s word is “instigator” (noun):  A person who brings about or initiates something.

“he was the instigator of the incident”

synonyms: initiator, prime mover, motivator, architect, designer, planner, inventor, mastermind, originator, author, creator, agent; founder, pioneer, founding father; agitator, fomenter, troublemaker, ringleader, rabble-rouser

When I was 11, I went to a church function, not quite sure what it was, but I know it took a long time, from early afternoon to early evening.

During this time, I was hanging out with two of my friends. They were both about a year younger than I was, and we all got bored after a while. Wandering around through the parking lot, we started talking about the problem we were having with non-members parking in our lot…so I came up with the bright idea of doing something about it.

I knew that sugar in the gas tank could cause a car to stall (I did not know it could ruin a car), but having no sugar, we decided to use milk. So, we got some of those little containers of milk from the church kitchen, and went back outside. We didn’t want to mess up cars belonging to anyone from the church, so we picked out cars we didn’t know. I picked out a car on the far side of the lot and opened the tank and went to pour the milk in, thinking it would simply cause the cars to stall. It was dark, and the car had a gap between the gas-door and the gas-cap, and this is where I poured my milk, so that it spilled on the ground. I did this on one other car, but never managed to get any milk in any gas tank.

However, cars did get damaged, and at least one was ruined, and of course, it belonged to one of the church members…and there were consequences!

Later that evening, right after I went to bed, my parents got a phone call…we had been caught! The person whose car was ruined suspected vandalism, and began asking questions. One thing led to another, and one my friends could not hold up under questioning, broke down and told everything.

While we all got in trouble, I was held responsible for the whole act because I was the oldest, and it was sort of my idea, so I was pegged as the instigator! The fact that I didn’t do any of the damage myself didn’t matter, I had encouraged my friends to do it!

I was 11, and at first, I didn’t think that was fair, but was not in any position to argue the point. It did not take long for my parents to make me see that I was responsible, even if I didn’t do any damage myself, because I was an instigator! I had encouraged my friends to commit these acts of vandalism…and the results were very expensive!

Once I was able to understand this and accept responsibility for what I had done, I actually took steps to make amends for my actions.

My amends were not accepted, but that is not what was most important, the point is that I tried to make things right, instead of doubling-down and making myself out to be a victim, or claiming that I was not guilty because I didn’t personally cause any damage.

We all make mistakes and do things we regret, it is a part of being human. Taking responsibility for our actions is part of being an adult, and a decent human being.

Just as I was held accountable for my actions, those who instigate hate and violence also need to be held accountable, no matter who they are…politicians, pundits and even the Presiden! Once they face the consequences of their actions, we can hope that they will see just how powerful (and dangerous) their influence can be, and seek to change. Even if they do not, perhaps others will be able to see how they have been manipulated to work against their own best interests, and decide to change themselves.

The conversation in our world is getting increasingly vitriolic and dangerous…and those who instigate, who stir up this contention, are making it worse! However, we are not powerless in the face of those who spew hatred and division, the truth is that it is in our power to hold the instigators accountable and to call for change. Rather than take up their mantle and turn on each other, we can embrace our differences and learn from them.

For if we all agreed on the same things, there would be no more learning, no more advancement, no more growth! Life is seldom easy, which is why it is so important for us to stand up to those who would instigate division and hate, because the only way to move forward is together!

Spirits in the Night

My parents used to have a glass of wine every night before bed.  It was almost ceremonial: At 11pm my mother would go to the kitchen and pour the wine into small glasses, while my dad would get the crackers and the cheese.  They would put the wine, crackers and cheese on a small tray and bring it back to the TV room where they would enjoy their wine and crackers while watching the news and the beginning of Johnny Carson, before heading up to bed.

They carried out this ritual almost every night, even when camping and on vacation, it must have had some deeper meaning for them, a way of remembering they were a couple, and more than just parents, for a little while.  I enjoyed those occasions when I was younger and got to have some of the cheese and crackers, and when older, I occasionally got to have some wine myself.

By the time I was in college, my mother had discovered a wine for their evening drink that she found both cheap and tasty…Thunderbird!  She would buy it by the case to get an even bigger discount, and store the cases in the basement.  Now, by this time I was well into my adventures with Alcoholism, and would drink almost anything I could get my hands on…but even I looked down on Thunderbird.  I would join in with my brothers and sister, making fun of our mother’s taste in wine, pointing out that this is what the winos drank on the streets of New York.  I considered it to be a last ditch drink of desperation: when there was nothing else, I knew I could always find Thunderbird at my parents’ house!

During the summer of 1983 I was living in an apartment down the block and around the corner from my house.  One hot August night, two of my friends and I were hanging out in the apartment listening to music, drinking beer and smoking pot.  We were bored, hungry and broke.  After sitting around trying to figure out what we could do to get food or to have some fun, I mentioned that my parents were out of town for a few days and that there was food at their house, and a color TV, so we all piled into my old Toyota Corolla and made the trip to my parents’ house…it took all of five minutes from sitting on the sofa at the apartment to going through the kitchen at my parents’ place.

After we got some food, we took it back to the living room to eat it; however, once the food was gone it didn’t take too long before we were bored again, and starting to sober up!  My friends asked if there was any booze in the house, but told them that my parents would know if I took anything out of the liquor cabinet (the bottles were old and dusty and they would notice the fingerprints – plus I suspected that my mother had all the levels memorized), besides there really wasn’t anything good in there any way, there were the remains of a few bottles of cheap whisky (Old Philadelphia, etc.) some liqueurs, and a few bottles of the  dandelion wine that my dad used to make in the basement.  So the liquor cabinet was a no go…however, there was the Thunderbird!  I did not want to take the bottle out of the fridge, my mother would have noticed that right away…but there were the two cases that she kept in the basement!

I went down into the basement, thinking I would get a bottle for each of us, and replace them when I got paid…before my folks were due back.  When I came back into the living room with three 2 liter bottles of Thunderbird, my friends were actually surprised…not only by the fact that my parents had Thunderbird, but that I thought we’d each drink a bottle!  My two buddies decided to split a bottle (which means I had to get glasses for them!) while I took one for myself.  During the evening, they were able to finish most of their bottle, while I had pounded down one bottle and then started on a second!

After that first bottle I was pretty well organized, and got caught up in conversation with my friends, while we sat in our big living room, listening to music, drinking, eating snacks and bullshitting.  We were in the midst of conversation, when we heard a loud “bang” on the second floor.

The house where I grew up had a big main hallway and a winding staircase that went up through the middle of the house, which gave it excellent acoustics, so we could easily hear any noises from upstairs.  The house was about 50 years old and had a lot of noises and creaks…and on occasion it seemed that a door previously left open was closed the next time I walked by…even if no one else was home.  And a couple of times the lights seemed to come on by themselves in the middle of the night.  Of course, remember that I was smoking a lot of pot back then, as well as drinking and doing several other drugs, so my perception may not be have been the best!  (However the night that someone knocked on my door at 3am, but no one was waiting in the hall, I was still in grade school and certainly not high then!)  I liked the idea that the house might be haunted, it was fun, and I even used to tell stories to my young nieces and nephews, who were amused and a little scared by the thought that there was a ghost in the house.

Thoughts of ghosts aside, that night, when we heard the noise upstairs, we were thinking of a more conventional intruder.  The neighborhood was not a good one, and the house had been broken into twice before.  In fact, one night a few months earlier (before I moved to the apartment) I came home late at night to see two guys, one on the other’s shoulders, trying to pry open one of the casement windows on the side of the house.  I was pretty wasted that night also…so I drove right at them, scraping the bricks and my car but missing them!  I chased them all the way up the driveway until they hopped the fence by the garage, and ran across the parking lot of the apartment building behind the house.

So thinking that the house might have been broken into, we went upstairs to find out where the noise had come from.  I wielded an empty Thunderbird bottle as a weapon, the last drops spilling down my arm as we went up the stairs in the dark.  Half way up, one of my friends asked why we didn’t turn the lights on, and I told him I was wondering the same thing, but there was not much we could do about it now.  So I continued to move up the stairs quietly (or as quietly as I could, being pretty drunk) and as I did, I listened for more sounds, but heard nothing.  Logic told me that the noise was probably caused by the wind, or maybe one of the cats knocked something over, after all what burglar would break into a house with three drunken guys in it, surely there must be easier houses to rob!  However, I was still anxious about going upstairs into the darkness!

At the top of the stairs I walked down the hall to turn on the lights, and we stood in front of the door to my parents’ room.  “I think the noise came from in here” I said, pointing into the darkness.  After a moment of hesitation, we walked in.  Once through the door, we were in a short hallway that led to the main part of the room.  I did think to turn on the light, and we proceeded down the short hallway.  The first thing we noticed was that it was cool in the room, even though it was a warm, humid night.  That gave us a chill that was deeper than the temperature.

At the end of the hall was a small dressing room.  That room always gave me the creeps, ever since I was a kid, but I’m not really sure why, perhaps because it was so small and I hate tight places.  When we walked into this room and turned on the light, everything seemed normal, my mother’s sewing machine sat near the window, and the left side of the wall was lined with closet doors.  The room looked the same as usual, but it was cold, I swear I could see my breath!  Although I should have felt pretty drunk after a bottle of Thunderbird, standing in that room seemed to sober me up right away! The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I felt like I did not want to stand in that room any longer, none of us did…so we backed out and went into the big part of the bedroom.  There were French doors on the left side of the room, which led out onto a porch that we never used; the rest of the room was very ordinary, just big.  There were several dressers, an old four poster bed, and a couple of night stands.  At the far end of the room was a bathroom, shared with the smaller room next door.  The room felt empty but not as creepy or as cold as the dressing room.  We searched my parents’ room, the bathroom and the next room and then all the other rooms, and of course we found nothing.

We then searched the down stairs and basement and there was no sign of an intruder in the house.  By this time we had calmed down and were able to convince ourselves that it was the Thunderbird and the pot that had given us the creeps…of course that did not stop us from continuing to drink and smoke that night!  And that’s just what we proceeded to do!

I wheeled the TV out of the den and into the room so we could hang out and watch TV, but soon the show was forgotten as we got to drinking more Thunderbird and telling ghost stories.  I told my friends about some of the unusual things I had noticed in the house in the past, and they told me stories of their own.  As we shared these stories the mood grew creepier, of course, but it was fun…until we heard another noise coming from upstairs!  First there was a creak…when we heard it we all looked at each other.  “Was that the dog?” asked one of my friends.  I just pointed to the dog, lying there on the floor in the big hall main hallway.  It was looking up toward the stairs…it had heard the noise too.  “Maybe that was just one of your cats?”  I was asked.  I was about to nod my head in agreement, when we heard the sound of a door slamming upstairs!  We jumped up right away, and ran to the stairs.  The lights were out in the stairway, although I thought that I had left them on!

I turned the lights back on, and we ran up the stairs.  One of my friends started yelling “We heard you up there, you picked the wrong house tonight!”  We sounded tough, but we were all nervous because we were full of ghost stories and Thunderbird; and although we had just searched the whole house, we were still not sure if we were really alone!

When we got to the top of the stairs, we saw that the door to my parents’ room was shut, although I swear I had left it open!  Once again we stood in front of my parents’ room.  We stared at the closed door feeling dread that was not there when we first looked down the dark hallway.  Anything could be behind that door!  I took a breath and then pushed the door open, forcefully, banging it against the wall, and I yelled something like “You better get out of here now!”  Of course there was no reply.  I turned on the lights and ran into the room, but there was no one there.  We searched the rest of the second floor again, even looking up into the attic (though we did not actually go up there), and then we went back down the stairs and searched the rest of the house, including the basement, and we found no one.  The house was safe and secure, and we were seriously freaked out!

We went back to the living room and immediately felt uncomfortable, as if we were no longer alone in the room.  One of my friends looked at a half empty bottle of Thunderbird and said “This stuff is fucked up, I’m not touching this again!”  We all laughed, but it was with some effort.  We were still upset, even the dog looked spooked!  As we stood there wondering what to do next we heard the sound of a door slamming upstairs again!

This time we froze!  We did not yell or search the house again.  We knew there were no burglars.  We did not know what was making the noises, or slamming the doors.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, my two friends thought that it was time for us to leave.  I thought they had a good idea, but I felt some responsibility to my parents, and I just had to know…so before we left, I went back upstairs alone.  It felt cooler up there, and creepier.  I made it half way up the stairs and saw that my parents’ door was still open.  Nothing looked out of place, but nothing felt right.  Then, as I stood there on the landing, I felt like someone was looking down at me from the darkness in the doorway of my parents’ room.  I turned and quickly ran back down stairs, and found my friends waiting for me in the living room, getting ready to go.

Just then, I had a moment of clarity, and said “We’re just letting our imaginations get the better of us, right?”  My friends agreed, saying it was just the pot and the Thunderbird that was messing with us…but they still wanted to leave.  I was not sure…after all I had a whole house to myself, and could sleep in my own bed and not on the mattress on the floor in the apartment.  I had just about convinced myself that I was just drunk and being silly, when the chair in the corner of the room seemed to rock, ever so slightly.  When I looked at the chair, the cushions seemed to be depressed as if someone was sitting in it!  One of my buddies even commented on it: “Who’s sitting in that chair?” That was when I gave up, and said “I think you’re right, it’s time to go!”  With that we all ran out of the house and into the car!

As I backed out of the driveway, and pulled out into the street, both of my friends told me to stop and look, as they pointed to the big bay windows that looked in on the living room.  There, in the window was a figure, it looked like a woman dressed in blue, with a white scarf on her head but her face was not clear!  We all saw it at the same time, and it gave me a deep chill that I can still feel today.  “Let’s get out of here!” one of my friends said from the back seat, and I did not have to be told twice, as I took off down the block and returned to the hot, cramped apartment!  We were shook up but did not really talk about what we had seen, other than asking each other “Did we really see that?”  Eventually we managed to go to sleep…or more honestly…pass out.

The next day, nursing a nasty hangover, I went back to the house, I still got a creepy feeling, but I felt braver in the daylight.  So I went in and I fed the dog and the cats, and cleaned up our mess from the night before.  Everything looked fine, no one had broken into the house and nothing was out of place, but I still felt like I wasn’t alone.  In the light of day, with the house cleaned, and myself sober (for the moment) it was easy to believe that the only spirits in the house the night before were in the bottles of Thunderbird we drank!  Thinking more clearly, I realized that there was a good chance that my friends saw how drunk I was, and were just playing off of my fears and over active imagination.  All this is possible, and probable.  Alcohol has turned out not to be my friend in the long run, and Thunderbird was not the best stuff I could have been drinking, so it is easy to believe that my imagination had just run away with me.

I moved back home that fall, when school started again, and we lived there for another three years, and I spent many nights there alone, and I never saw anything else like I did that night. There were a few small incidents that made me wonder, but nothing that couldn’t be easily written off to my overactive imagination.

Logic tells me that what I heard and saw that night were fueled but Thunderbird, but still I cannot get that imagine out of mind, of that figure in blue, standing by the window, and I wonder!