The answer is: It's in the blood.
That's it, summarized into a four-word sentence. So if you want to return to watching TV or working (like some of you should be doing), then you got your answer and can move along your merry way.
For those who like being bored out of their gourds by long, often unnecessarily detailed stories, here is a little something more to satisfy that masochistic desire...
As the youngest of two girls, I worshipped my father. And rightly so. He's a great man. "Now, I never went to college. But...." he will often say in his slow, southern drawl before revealing something that even the college-educated often do not comprehend.
He was an extremely talented man, able to craft anything out of wood, to invent and engineer the most amazing things. He was a man of strict, Christian morals and values, despite being raised in a poor family with an alcoholic, brick-laying father with highly questionable morals.
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| Daddy and I beside an ancestor's grave |
As a young girl, I was like my father in so many ways. I was a tomboy, hanging out in my father's workshop, happy to be the son that he never had. I was raised around grease and sawdust, happy to be listening to the forlorn voice of Hank Williams, Sr., the depressing songs of Patsy Cline and the banjo-picking of Ricky Skaggs. I watched CHiPs and Nascar with Daddy because we loved to watch the wrecks. We went to the shooting range and became connoisseurs of barbecue sandwiches. He taught me to fly fish on the banks of the reservoir where my grandmother lived.
Perhaps the most memorable thing about my father is when he took me along on his motorcycle rides--the kind where you get up at the crack of dawn, climb onto a Lazyboy recliner on two wheels, and spend the day cruising the back country roads without returning until dinnertime. We went in search of the heat of Summer, the sweet smell of Honeysuckle patches that we passed, long-forgotten graveyards, rolling green battlefields, and the broken and dilapidated, grey remnants of long-abandoned homes that were slowly being overtaken by nature.
We would marvel at some of these magnificent homes, and wonder why someone would ever abandon such a place. We would also wonder about what mysteries and secrets these homes would hold, and if spirits from their past still lingered inside, perhaps watching through broken windows as we passed.
When we weren't riding the motorcycle, my father kept the subject of the paranormal in my head by telling me stories of haunted places, U.F.O. sightings and abductions, and Bigfoot sightings that he'd read about. I would listen in wide-eyed wonder at the stories, and soon found that the paranormal was a fascination that would last well into my adulthood.
I wasn't your typical teenager. Instead of finding interest in things like friends, sports, social gatherings, or the latest TV shows, I was drawn to philosophy, theology, and researching subjects like the paranormal. I wanted to know the truth about life and about all of its mysteries. So, of course when a friend suggested that we go visit a place that was rumored to be haunted, I was eager to go along.
Our outings gave me first-hand experience with spirits and other things that science could not explain. I can remember trekking through the woods on a bitterly-cold December night, hearing the crunching of footsteps in the fallen leaves beside me when no one was there to make them. I remember the red orb of light, hovering at about shoulder-height, that tried to conceal itself behind a tree while still getting a glimpse of us. And I remember an electric-blue flash of lightening inside the car, just in front of the rear-view mirror, as a friend and I drove past a Civil War battlefield cemetery.
College brought more paranormal incidents. The girls on the hall in my dorm decided--for some ridiculous reason--to take an Ouija board to a nearby cemetery one night. When they returned, they brought something back with them that wasn't too nice. The brand-new dormitory had to be cleansed by a Catholic priest that Spring before any of us could rest at night.
When I became a young adult, life dealt my a couple difficult hands, and I wasn't able to pursue the paranormal quite as much as I wanted to. However, in my late 30s, after a nasty separation from my ex, I decided to do something for myself. I sat down and Googled paranormal teams in my area. The first video that popped up was a YouTube video from Virginia Paranormal Investigations. And after watching the video, I decided that this is the team I wanted to join. I emailed them immediately and was lucky to soon be a part of the team. I haven't missed an investigation since, and am now living with the director, Jeff.
It's been one hell of a ride, and this blog is about the experiences we have along the way. You never know what we are going to encounter next. So stay tuned...
Perhaps the most memorable thing about my father is when he took me along on his motorcycle rides--the kind where you get up at the crack of dawn, climb onto a Lazyboy recliner on two wheels, and spend the day cruising the back country roads without returning until dinnertime. We went in search of the heat of Summer, the sweet smell of Honeysuckle patches that we passed, long-forgotten graveyards, rolling green battlefields, and the broken and dilapidated, grey remnants of long-abandoned homes that were slowly being overtaken by nature.
We would marvel at some of these magnificent homes, and wonder why someone would ever abandon such a place. We would also wonder about what mysteries and secrets these homes would hold, and if spirits from their past still lingered inside, perhaps watching through broken windows as we passed.
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| One of the many abandoned homes we encountered |
When we weren't riding the motorcycle, my father kept the subject of the paranormal in my head by telling me stories of haunted places, U.F.O. sightings and abductions, and Bigfoot sightings that he'd read about. I would listen in wide-eyed wonder at the stories, and soon found that the paranormal was a fascination that would last well into my adulthood.
I wasn't your typical teenager. Instead of finding interest in things like friends, sports, social gatherings, or the latest TV shows, I was drawn to philosophy, theology, and researching subjects like the paranormal. I wanted to know the truth about life and about all of its mysteries. So, of course when a friend suggested that we go visit a place that was rumored to be haunted, I was eager to go along.
Our outings gave me first-hand experience with spirits and other things that science could not explain. I can remember trekking through the woods on a bitterly-cold December night, hearing the crunching of footsteps in the fallen leaves beside me when no one was there to make them. I remember the red orb of light, hovering at about shoulder-height, that tried to conceal itself behind a tree while still getting a glimpse of us. And I remember an electric-blue flash of lightening inside the car, just in front of the rear-view mirror, as a friend and I drove past a Civil War battlefield cemetery.
College brought more paranormal incidents. The girls on the hall in my dorm decided--for some ridiculous reason--to take an Ouija board to a nearby cemetery one night. When they returned, they brought something back with them that wasn't too nice. The brand-new dormitory had to be cleansed by a Catholic priest that Spring before any of us could rest at night.
When I became a young adult, life dealt my a couple difficult hands, and I wasn't able to pursue the paranormal quite as much as I wanted to. However, in my late 30s, after a nasty separation from my ex, I decided to do something for myself. I sat down and Googled paranormal teams in my area. The first video that popped up was a YouTube video from Virginia Paranormal Investigations. And after watching the video, I decided that this is the team I wanted to join. I emailed them immediately and was lucky to soon be a part of the team. I haven't missed an investigation since, and am now living with the director, Jeff.
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| Jeff and I, investigating Fort Mifflin |
It's been one hell of a ride, and this blog is about the experiences we have along the way. You never know what we are going to encounter next. So stay tuned...
