Seven ghosts
Jan. 7th, 2014 12:13 am
The house, June 1986
Last Friday afternoon, the previous owners of the house came to visit. They were in the neighborhood from Maine visiting an in-law, and thought they would drop in share with us some old photos. Of course, we were petrified, but they were really quite lovely.
"You are the third generation of gays to live here," Todd, the older half of the equation informed me, clearly pleased with this fact. "We bought it from an older gay couple, and we are delighted to be able to hand it over to you."
The shared with us photos of the house. Some from the sixties, when the house was being transported six miles to its present location. One set of photos was in an album, dated June 1986. "We were holding a yard sale, and a couple came over to us and handed this to us," said Chase, the younger half (and yes, I did take note of the fact that there was an age difference between the two, just like me and Corb). "They told us they bought the home and wanted to make it their dream house. They ran out of money."
"Wow, this place has come a long way." And boy, has it. What these two did to transform the house...the love and attention to detail they poured into it...is nothing short of amazing.
And then the conversation turned to ghosts.

The house, November 2013
"Seven," Chase informed us, rather firmly. His partner looked away. "Two men and five women."
"Seven ghosts?" I asked, rather shocked. I honestly hadn't felt much of anything. But then again, I never do.
"Is there one in the servant stairway?" asked Corb. "I thought I saw something crouching there the first day we moved in."
"A male," said Chase. "But they are all very nice. None of them even made themselves known until after about a year."
We had a smudging done a few days before that, by my friend Psychic Sue. The place reeked of burnt sage. "But you hardly need this, because the ghosts that you have here are completely harmless," she laughed.
Since our visit, we've had little incidences. Saturday we were sitting in the living room and three books fell off the shelves without warning. We returned home that night and the television had been turned on. Another book had fallen off a shelf upstairs. This evening Corb saw the door to the pantry being jiggled open.
The key for me was being alone in the house. This morning, when Corb left for work. I was left all alone for the first time. I braced myself, fearing the worst. But I felt nothing, only peace. That was a good sign.
Seven ghosts. I am okay with that.
"Seven ghosts?" I asked, rather shocked. I honestly hadn't felt much of anything. But then again, I never do.
"Is there one in the servant stairway?" asked Corb. "I thought I saw something crouching there the first day we moved in."
"A male," said Chase. "But they are all very nice. None of them even made themselves known until after about a year."
We had a smudging done a few days before that, by my friend Psychic Sue. The place reeked of burnt sage. "But you hardly need this, because the ghosts that you have here are completely harmless," she laughed.
Since our visit, we've had little incidences. Saturday we were sitting in the living room and three books fell off the shelves without warning. We returned home that night and the television had been turned on. Another book had fallen off a shelf upstairs. This evening Corb saw the door to the pantry being jiggled open.
The key for me was being alone in the house. This morning, when Corb left for work. I was left all alone for the first time. I braced myself, fearing the worst. But I felt nothing, only peace. That was a good sign.
Seven ghosts. I am okay with that.



Anyway, Edward Horton's death was kind of a big deal, from what Corb can see. He was a passenger on the SS Narragansett, a paddler steamer that burned and sank on June 11, 1880, after a collision in Long Island Sound. According to Wikipedia, "The Narragansett had taken on approximately 300 passengers at the North River Pier at Jay St. in New York City at 5:00 pm. Later that evening at around 11:30 pm, in heavy fog, she collided with her sister ship the SS Stonington near the mouth of the Connecticut River. The Stonington was damaged, but was able to return to a port and took no casualties. The Narragansett had a huge gash in the side of her hull, followed by a rapid fire. Many of the passengers asleep in their staterooms were unable to escape. Significant controversy followed the collision, as the captains of the two ships gave different accounts of the accident and the events leading up to it, and the crew of the Narragansett faced accusations of neglecting its duty. Approximately 50 passengers, but only one crewman, died on the Narragansett.One of the passengers on the Stonington was Charles J. Guiteau who, just over a year later, assassinated President James A. Garfield. Guiteau was on deck at the time of the collision, and afterwards believed that he had been miraculously spared to punish Garfield."