Wednesday, September 29, 2010


Consensus in our house is that we have spirits with us more or less constantly. I’m the skeptic in the house because I haven’t seen or heard them, but other family members are true believers. Over the past 20-years in this house, my youngest became so accustomed to hearing their voices, footsteps, fleeting glimpses, and other unexplained evidences, that their presence simply became an accepted fact of life.

We bought the house from a classmate’s parents and throughout the years, school friends who had been guests in the house before our moving in, told of hearing the same voices…most often a little girl’s, but many others as well. Same for the footsteps.

Although I remained skeptical, I do believe there is enough in this world that simply cannot be objectively explained and I retain an open mind on the subject. The last 3 mornings I’ve found a heavy door leading to the front entry vestibule slightly ajar. It latches securely and will not open of its own accord, even when I pull on it. Yet, for the past 3 mornings there it is, slightly ajar. I’ve satisfied myself that no family member is leaving it that way the night before and that no other force I can replicate will open it. Whatever is going on there will continue until it stops and that will be that.

Over the years I’ve been rousted awake in the middle of the night to patrol the house after my family has heard “something strange” downstairs. I’ve made the patrol numerous times and thankfully, I’ve never discovered any bogeymen and suffered only brief sleep interruptions. My family always knew not to recklessly disturb Dad’s sleep.

During July 2009, I was awakened by my youngest who had seen something in my room. It was about 3:30 A.M. and where I usually awaken slowly with some displeasure, that time I instantly bolted awake. While I was still groggy, Youngest started energetically describing a full-figure apparition she had just seen standing at the foot of my bed, looking down at me. What she described perfectly was a circa 1910-1930 aviator, complete with his leather helmet w/chin straps hanging loose, goggles, a heavy leather coat, riding pants, and tall leather boots, looking much like Max Miller shown above.

Her description was so vivid and accurate in small detail that the clarity of it alone jolted me instantly awake. You see, one of my recent projects has been to research and write the story of the first military pilots that flew the old Wright kites during the years before WWI. My computer is full of text and photographic files and I have a number of old aviation artifacts dating to the period laying out on the nearby desk.

The thing that shocked me awake was that my Youngest had had absolutely no direct contact with my work nor had shown any particular interest in it., yet her description of the man was perfect to the period. He was tall, had angular features and he was just looking down at me sleeping. When he became aware of my Youngest standing out in the hallway about 25’ away, looking at him, he slowly turned his head to the left, looked at her, smiled slightly, took a half-step backward, and vanished. His image was substantial enough to block the view of a large clock hanging on the wall behind him and thus enable my Youngest to make a fair estimate of his height compared to mine when I stood in the same place. He was about 6-feet tall.

We haven’t seen the pilot since last year…and we’ll see if tomorrow brings Day 4 of the open door.  By the way, my youngest has both an undergraduate technical degree and a post-graduate professional degree from two of the country's first tier universities.  She is a competent observer in my book.


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