Thursday, July 2, 2009

Kitchen Memory: Haunted, Part Two

Blog reader Jenny C. has been kind enough to send us a very detailed and suspenseful kitchen memory, that also includes the bathroom, the rest of the house and the yard. We'll be running it in installments on Thursday afternoons. In part one,  which ran last week, Jenny takes a Polaroid of her family. When a blurry shape appears in the photo, Jenny teases her family by pretending it is a ghost. Here is part two:

Before those gaping holes of disbelief could utter anything, I continued. "Yes, the neighbors told us all about him, while he was alive that is. He lived here almost fifty years. Until he was eighty-two years old. Raised five daughters on this third acre of the world. " Drama usually worked best with this crowd.

"The neighbors said that they would tease him about his advancing age and he would reply not to worry that he planned to outlive the wall. " I gestured to the four-foot tall brick fence that encircled the sunken back yard; complete with rock garden surrounded birdbath, as clarification.

"That’s your dad," Mom was having none or this without a fight.

"Wish it was, really. But our ghost doesn’t mean any harm. He's just concerned about his property."

"He didn't die in the house, did he?" My sister Amy's eyes were big as saucers.

"No. He died one fall up North in his cabin during one of his traditional hunting trips." I paused for effect. "The brick wall fell down six months later."

"That's your dad," the stuck record insisted. So I agreed to take another picture. This time with witnesses. A bluff I figured would backfire all over me and my rouse would be short lived. Without the testimony of my photographic entourage my mom would go to her grave saying that that was dad crouched down in front of the house. So I took the second photo, all four of us balanced on the curb. Dad was at my right shoulder. I had two more relatives balancing on the curb next to him to testify that he was not in the picture.

The second shot and a third for good measure were stolen from the energy of the universe and we went back to the picnic table to watch the magic appear. I figured the joke was over until mom pointed to a spot on the surface.

"See, there he is again. Your dad is standing this time and has moved closer to the sidewalk."

Amy helped me out, "Mom, that's not Dad. Dad was standing on the curb next to me."

I bent over to look at the fairly clear image and Gary crowded in too. There was the same image, dressed in identical clothing, on a slightly different spot on the two pictures and in different positions. But he had on the same short sleeved, white dress shirt and long dress slacks. His face was blurred and non-existent really. But you knew he was there. My jaw dropped.

"Holy s___!" My infant daughter was within ear shot so I kept the rest of that thought to myself.

"That's your dad! Virgil! Girls! What do you think you are trying to pull?" Mom laughed but Gar, Amy and I all looked at dad who just shook his head and shrugged in disbelief too. The photo had been passed from hand to hand by now and this photographer was as impressed as any one with the results.

Next week: The ghost grows more intrusive.

We'd love to share your kitchen memories. Send them to us here.

This blog hosted/created by

No comments:

Post a Comment