The Unexplained

Passing time.

I was just wondering if anyone out there would like to share any true experiences of unexplained phenomenon that they may have experienced. You can tell your story anonymously, if you wish.

Be honest now - can you tell me that you have never experienced having thought of someone you haven't seen in ages, and within 48 hours, you hear from that person, or bump into them? And you catch yourself saying, "Y'know, I was just thinking about you the other day...". Or having a vague, nagging feeling that a place seems familiar somehow, but you have never been there before? Or something you cannot possibly remember (because it was before your time) seems almost nostalgic, like when you hear a song from the 1890's or something like that, and it brings vivid "memories" that you really do not have? The very first time I heard the song "The Entertainer" I was suddenly swept with a distinct mental vision of a screened back door slamming on a summer Sunday in the early 1900's, and the smell of a ham dinner in the air, and horse-drawn carriages carry people from church on a hard-pack dirt road. I could smell the ham, and hear that screen door slam, and hear the horses. Of course, I was not born until 50 years later....so why did I feel such nostalia? Where did that "memory" come from?

A recent poll indicates nearly 80% of all Americans claim to have experienced such things.

Here are some true examples from my own life - I'm sure many can be explained - but I never found the explanation. In some cases I was movin' too fast to LOOK for one. And it's different when it actually happens to you.

When I was 5, we had a house in Hawthorne NY. The stairway to the second story led to a long hall, along which there were all the bedrooms. After being put to bed, with the door open, I often saw figures of people walking by my door. The strange thing is that it was already pitch black - and the figures were even darker. I recall one in particular - a man wearing what appearred to be a fedora and a long ankle-length coat, walking a dog the size of a beagle. Believe it or not! My imagination? Perhaps. But when I attended a family Thanksgiving dinner almost 30 years later, my brother Bobby confided in me that as a child in that house in New York, he used to see dark figures walk by HIS bedroom door....and he mentioned some guy walking a dog.

At 16, I was hired by a guy from MA to work on the grounds of a house he had purchased in Henniker where I lived. The house was the famous "Ocean Born Mary" house, reputed to be the most haunted house in the country. I was the only kid who would work there, because I scoffed at ghosties and the like. That was then.

The owner used to come up to the house on Friday's, at 5-ish, and he would pay me for the week. One week, on a Thursday, it was getting toward dusk and I was collecting the lawn tools to return them to the shed. As I looked toward the house, I saw a light come on in the upstairs window. "Great!" I thought - maybe I can get paid early this week. I quickly put the tools away and raced to the house. No car in the driveway. No one there. "Darn, missed him," I muttered.

The next day when he showed up, as usual, I told him I had tried to catch him before he left yesterday. He said he had not been there - he was in Chelsea, MA, working late. I showed him from the rear of the house which window had the light on, so he could check the wiring or whatever. He looked at me strangely, and told me THAT room did not have electricity - it had been closed off for almost 60 years, and he had only recently unsealed it to get ready for remodeling. It had been sealed by previous owners for allegedly being haunted.

I quit the job.

Also when 16, my Dad took my brother and I on a cross-country trip. We came to a sign on the outskirts of a town in Wyoming by the name of Gillette, and the sign said "Entering Gillette - Sharpest Town In The West". Dad said he was going to get off the main road and pull into town to look for a bank - he needed to draw out some cash. I told him there was no need to look for a bank - I knew where it was. Naturally, he laughed. I gave him exact directions to the bank, as well as to a place known to be the largest gas station in the world - it had about 90 some-odd pumps. To humor me, he followed the directions - right to those locations.

I had never been west of New York. But I knew that town, inside and out. Every back road. Every store. And to this day I do not know how. But my Dad had asked me to never relate that story to anyone else. But to this day, every time I watch an old black & white western that takes place in that part of the country, I feel nostalgic, homesick. I feel like I belong there. And in 2005 when I took my family cross-country and we arrived in the Colorado/Wyoming area, I felt as if I had come home. It all seemed so very familiar to me, as if I had lived my life there. And the same feeling, only deeper, washed over me as we explored the old Indian pueblo ruins in the Southwest. The same feeling, only much stronger, as if it were touching my very soul. And though I cannot explain it, the feeling I felt in the Southwest seemed "older" than the feelings from Wyoming. In Wyoming, the feelings appeared to be with a 1930's "flavor" (I even knew the exact location of an old "Hoover-Ville" of the depression), while the feelings at the ruins had a distinct "flavor" going back much, much farther. I even showed the family an ancient "well" of water in the desert that I knew of. How I knew of it, only the Good Lord knows. Yes, I know how crazy it sounds. I am only relating what happened.

In 1971 I was walking down Franklin Street toward main street, headed to the bank that was on the corner. I suddenly "knew" that I had done this before - and had walked these exact steps before. And I "knew" that when I rounded the corner, I would literally bump into "Knobby" (Freddie) Partridge. So, I decided to stop, to avoid that. But I could not stop - I felt compelled to keep going. And as I rounded the corner, I bumped square into Knobby. Was this some sort of "instant rerun" time loop? Or Deja Vu? Or just a premonition? Who knows. All I know is that it happened, and it still perplexes me nearly 40 years later.

In 2003 we were living in our house in Deerfield NH. My office was downstairs, and the lights were on the back wall. As I sat at the computer, the lights were behind me.

On the day my wife came to Maine to pick up her mother's ashes (she had recently passed), I was working at the computer and there was a brief darkening, as if something had passed between the light and my work station. I turned, but no one was there. I was alone in the house. I got the willies, and felt a definite chill.

Over the next several weeks I was becoming ill, and that same crazy thing kept happening - a "shadow" would briefly cast over my work area, and be gone as quickly as it came. Robin thinks it was her Mom, not happy with being in an unfamiliar place. I figured maybe something - perhaps her Mom (who knows) was trying to tell me something. I moved my office AND Mom's ashes upstairs, and the phenomenon stopped, even though the lighting was behind me at the new work station, as well.

And the illness went away. I later discovered that the basement where my office had been had a mold problem that was making me sick. By moving upstairs, I got better. Thanks for lookin' out for your erstwhile son-in-law, Ma!

In THIS house - whew! When we first moved in, someone kept "walking" down the rear stairwell, even though we had it closed off to keep the cats downstairs. One night, it sounded like someone bounced something down those stairs. When we looked, nothing was there. And while in bed, we could hear the kitchen cabinet doors downstairs, opening and closing.

And Robin would hear someone yelling outside - when no one was around. She had thought it was me, but I had been out back in the "back 40", about 1/3 of a mile from the house.

Since the majority of the crap was centered around the rear stairwell that we never used, I decided to remove it, and use the floorspace more efficiently. As soon as I tore out that stairwell, ALL the crazy stuff stopped, immediately. Except for the shadow we see every so often in the front hallway - and there is likely a good explanation for that. I just haven't found it yet.

The only other thing:

My daughter Criss and her friend Tasha were house-sitting one weekend when Robin and I were gone. When we got back, they were both frightened - and believe me, NOTHING frightens those two. But they were. And stuff was stacked up against the cellar door. As they told the story, they had heard a very loud "crash" in the cellar. They went down to see if something was wrong. It was!

I have those huge plastic storage tubs, full of heavy stuff - each tub weighs in at least 80 pounds. And I have them stacked two high. It would take substantial effort to tip one over - they are heavy and they interlock for stacking purposes. Well, one of them was on its side and the contents all over the place. What's more, it was not where it should have been had it just "fallen" over. It was at least 10 feet from where it had been stacked - as if it had been thrown.

Nothing like that has happened since.

OK, folks, so now you know I have an open mind about such things. And if you found these things interesting to read, then chances are others will, as well. So, if you have any stories - they gotta be true - pass them on, and I'll publish them. Again, you may remain anonymous if you wish. But in this day and age, few folks will think you're crazy.

All I ask is to keep the BS to yourself and family gatherings. Any stories sent in should be true to the best of your recollection. Stories will be posted here (there are two already).

With stories like this, perhaps we can make the winter months pass more quickly.

Bill

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