Category: random

In 2005, Mary, Kyle and I took a short weekend vacation to northern California. Down the road by about an hour from where we were staying is the original site of the first Russian settlement in California, known as Fort Ross.

The fort, though reconstructed, is strong reminder about how tough explorers, fur traders, soldiers and the like must have been in those days. It includes a cemetery as well as a small church with very plain — yet somehow — artistically designed wooden steeples.

Those church steeples are a fascinating piece of architecture buried inside a well-documented history.

Every time Mom and Dad turned around, Adam and I were in trouble. We were either pick a fight with one another, our sisters or some kid in the neighborhood.

So when most kids were allowed to look after themselves, we were under the care of a babysitter. It was embarrassing and we were teased by neighborhood kids, but it was our own faults.

Usually, our parents would call Sue Skaggs, who live across the highway from us to come look after us. She was a strong-handed woman, who didn’t let us get away with crap.

She was also a chain smoker, whose cigarette smoke-filled the house every time she sat us. Dad was trying to quit smoking at the time, so my folks decided to find someone else to watch us troublemakers for the summer.

They hired an Air Force brat, a girl a few years older than me. Her name was Nadine Redd.

At first Adam and I were apprehensive about Nadine. We had no idea what sort of sitter she’d be.

As it turned out, she was one of the best. Her rule was that as long as we didn’t break anything in the house or cause one another to bleed severely, she was cool with our behavior.

Too bad her father was transferred the following year.

It was a surprise the Del Norte High School boys track team had voted on and appointed me to complete. The surprise was an award for our head coach, Brian Ferguson.

Called, “The Golden Jock Strap award,” it took me a few days to figure out how to shape and stiffen an actual jock-strap. I ruined a pillow and a couple of hand towels as I applied several layers of plaster to the course fabric.

It took the jus’ over 24-hours for the “sculpture,” to dry completely before I could spray the first coat of gold paint on it. This was followed by designing a base for the award and having a metal tag etched.

The hardest part was rigging the contraption to the wooden base in a way that would keep it from falling over or collapsing under its own weight. But somehow I managed to find the perfect point of balance without a whole lot of fuss.

The night of the school’s sports banquet, I kept the Mr. Ferguson’s award hidden in my locker. I also arranged with Mr. Raleigh, our athletics director, to give the award as the final offering of the evening.

When the time came, I carried it out to the podium, covered by large cloth. I called Mr. Ferguson up to the stage and read a statement I had prepared for the event.

Then I handed it to him, still covered. When he pulled the cloth off the bronzed strap, he turned bright-red and did his best to laugh through his embarrassment.

Worst of all, a photographer from the Del Norte Triplicate took his picture and it was published in that Saturday edition.

“This is your room,” the woman said to me as she turned the key and pushed open the door.

It was a very elegant room.  The bed had a dark and high headboard. The covers were layered with quilts to help keep out the chill of the Humboldt County nights. The lace of the curtains allowed the room to filled with just enough sunshine as to warm the place comfortable.

Placing my small leather case on the foot of the bed and said, “Thank you,” as the woman closed the door behind me.

This was the first time I had ever took lodging at the Charlotta Inn. I was planning to meet Mom and my step-dad, Del for dinner and spend the night at the once famous Inn.

The Charlotta Inn had been the stopping place at one time for movie stars and gangsters. Now it was considered off the beaten path and though it still drew a rare visit from a movie star or outlaw type, it had settled into its more conventional role of historical Inn and local watering hole that served lunch and dinner to the year round tourists and accommodated over night guests like me.

Its history had its moments of stardom such as appearing on film and in trial records during murderous acts. None was more sensational them those of the man rumored to have been shot on the front porch after a late night game of cards. This man managed to return to the front lobby and had climbed up the stair case but died, having fallen into the arms of his wife.

The man who shot him was never caught.

Having always heard these stories and enjoying them, I considering them both history and folklore at once. Yet I never paid any mind to the whispered notion of the ghosts that haunted the Inn.

I never had too as I had never stayed there before.

Meeting Mom and Del for dinner at seven as planned, we ate dinner and sat talking into the late evening. It was nearly eleven o’clock when they decided it was time to head for home. I offered to purchase them a room for the night, but they refused, opting for the comfort of their own bed at home.

After saying goodnight in the parking lot, I wondered out to the edge of the woods. I could hear the laughter coming from the bar as it echoed from the backside of the Inn. And somewhere in the short distance I heard a couple of pony’s nicker and whinny.

“I’m glad something’s haven’t changed,” I said to himself.

Again I heard laughter and loud voices from the bar. The night air was getting a bit chilly so I decided to wonder over and check out the tavern.

Once inside I was surprised to find only the barkeeper and two patrons.  They were watching television.

“Must have been the idiot box I heard,” I muttered.

I ordered a shot of whiskey neat, tossed it back and headed up stairs for the night.

Walking slowly up the stairs towards my room, I recalled warmly the wonderful evening I had just spend with my parents. I was also looking forward to some sleep. As I made the top of the landing I heard the distinct sound of high-heeled cowboy boots out on the front porch.

Inside my room I sat on the edge of my bed and labored to remove my own high-heeled cowboy boots. Once they were off, I wiggled his toes.

“It feels good to have those things off,” I thought.

Suddenly I heard a faint “popping” noise, much like a champagne bottles cork letting loose under pressure. Then I heard a door open and close hard. This was followed by footsteps on the outside wall by the head of my bed.

I felt more than heard a “thud” as something dropped downward and then against the wall, shaking the bed frame and me on it, this was followed a soft sobbing just beyond the wall.

Jumping up and racing around the corner, I peered into the dimly lit staircase only to see nothing but tapestry covered steps. I walked down to the bottom of the land and back up estimating where I had first heard the “thump” on the wall in my room which caused the bed to move.

It was twelve steps.

Continued up the remaining steps, I paused at the top long enough to look back at the empty stairwell. I returned to my room and went to bed, tossing and turning, thinking about the strange occurrence I though I had witnessed.

It was still on my mind as I woke up having dropped off some time early in the morning.i quietly showered, shaved and dressed, wishing to get down to the Inn’s restaurant before it closed.

It was hard not to recall the night before as I passed the very spot in the staircase where I felt certain the unusual noised had come from. I paused and shifted my weight on the twelfth step as if to test it, wanting to see if it made any weird noises.

It did not.

After breakfast I wandered out to his truck and turned it north on Highway 36 towards Mom and Del’s home. Still I couldn’t shake the strange feeling of the night before and how spooked it had left me.

As soon as I arrived at my parents home I told them what had happened. They did not seem surprised.

“I’ve heard others say the same thing,” Del told me.

I finished my story, and then it dawned on me that maybe I had heard more than the foot steps on the stairs.

“I heard a card game as well as horses tied up outside,” I thought.

I felt as sickening chill rush over my body as the idea came to me.

Later that night I was sitting in the living room when I decided he wanted to read.  I picked up an AA pamphlet and read the 12-steps on the back.

When I got to the final step and read the words, “Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps,” I stopped, having recalled the number of steps in the staircase.

My entire body shuttered as I quickly put the pamphlet down and fumbled for the television remote.

It was a harsher sounding knock at the door than usual. And as usual all four of my dogs went crazy. Turns out it was our not-so-friendly mail carrier with a certified letter.

I immediately thought, “Well, this can’t be good.”

Once signed for, I opened it and found myself holding a subpoena for the situation I found myself involved in August 20th. That’s when I noticed a vehicle driving very slow and weaving in between lanes as I was heading home.

I called it in and eventually filled out a report as law enforcement officers arrested the driver.

So now I’m going to court to testify November 3rd. It’s the price of being a good citizen.

The six of us had jus’ finished one of Mom’s fantastic spaghetti meals. And we were all sitting around the table contemplating what sort of desert Mom might surprise us with.

Without warning Marcy, our youngest sister, started rubbing her belly as if she’s were so full she couldn’t dare think of eating anything else. Her gesture was so animated that we stopped talking long enough to watch her.

Then as if she were part of the once-famous commercial advertising Alka-Seltzer, she grinned and announced, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing!”

We all jus’ busted up laughing.

We were visiting Mom and Del for the weekend. It would be a quick trip since the bride and I had to be back to work on Tuesday.

It was spur of the moment trip so it was a nice surprise that we were able to bring Kyle along with us. He was living with his mother and going to pre-school and I was fearful that our weekend trip might interfere with his class schedule.

Kyle was having a grand time playing with an old stool with a cotton-filled cushion on top of it and an old broom handle. Grandpa Del had given him permission to beat on the stool with the long piece of wood.

Kyle had never been what one would call a talker and seemed to play well by himself. As he whacked the stool over and over, Mom, Del, Mary and I chewed the fat.

For whatever reason, I called Kyle over saying, “Come here.”

I told him to tell Grandma Margie his name.

Much to my astonishment and Mom’s displeasure, he looked her straight in the face and said, “Come here.”

It was time I started to remember to preface my request with his first name from then on.

“Let’s quickly load him and get out of here,” Barney said to me.

We were standing knee keep in a Wyoming snow field easing the dead and frozen body onto the stretcher. Our breaths came quickly like puffs of smoke, which hung in the air momentarily, but rapidly, fell to earth as it froze.

I worked quietly, but I knew Barney on the other hand, had to keep talking, as it was his nervous habit to chatter while around a body.
“Damned bag,” Barney growled.

He had been fumbling with the olive-green piece of plastic for a couple of minutes. The zipper was stuck, than it tore. He wadded it up and tramped back to the waiting ambulance.

When he returned he carried a folded sheet. Barney flicked it out, still holding onto the edge and let the white material float down on the body until it was draped.

I moved quickly around the stretcher tucking in the outside edges and clicking the safety belts in place to hold the body onto the stretcher.

Together the two of us gently lifted the stretcher until the wheels locked into place. Then we muscled it through the snow to the running ambulance.

“Help me get him turned around,” I demanded.

The body had been loaded feet first which did not look right. Barney shook his head from side-to-side and turned to crawl into the front of the cab.
“He’s dead, Tommy. What’s it matter?”

I sighed loudly as I buckled the safety strap back into place.

Soon I was up front as well, in the driver’s seat. Barney reached over and picked up the microphone to call in their position ad estimated time of arrival.

I let out the emergency brake and the ambulance moved forward through the snow.

As soon as Barney hung up the microphone he turned on the heater full blast. He knew that if his feet were cold than my feet must be frozen since I had suffered frost bite less than three months ago and was in constant pain when my toes grew cold.

“Thanks, Barney,” I said cheerfully as I secretly wiggled my painful toes.

Within minutes we were passing through the gates of the base. It had started snowing again covering the gray asphalt over in white.
I flipped on the windshield wipers on, then grabbed up the microphone.

Suddenly Barney’s eyes grew wide and his chatter became a stammer. I looked at my partner, then caught movement out of the corner of my right eye.

The fact that the movement was startling and that Barney screamed caused me to react by slamming on the brakes. With that, the ambulance started to slide, the rear end swinging hard to the left.

Jus’ then Barney went gone wild. He was unbuckled and standing hunched, back against the windshield, when he reached down and flung his door open, bailing out into the whiteness.

Within seconds the ambulance came to a stop. It rested sideways in the street, its front wheels touching the curb of the sidewalk.

I popped open my door and bolted like a coyote held in captivity.

Several strides from the ambulance I regained my wits and jogged back to the ambulance as a security police cruiser pulled up. Staff Sergeant Jenkins got out and walked over to me, where I explained what happened.

We walked over to where the ambulance had started sliding to see if Barney was injured, laying in the snow. We found nothing but a couple of foot print jus’ beyond the curb.

Barney later explained that he saw the body slowly sit up. Then it started to reach out towards him.

“That’s when I jumped out,” he said, adding “I didn’t stop running until I reached the hospital.”

It had been hanging in the front foyer of our home for as long as I could remember. I was surprised to see that Mom had left it behind when she decided to move her and my siblings to Fortuna following her and Dad’s divorce.

Finding the house empty was a shock. I had no idea she had left and it would be sometime before I would learn the details of their move.

It was the day following my birthday and I had hiked out of the hills behind the house after spending a few weeks in the woods. I was busy licking my injured pride after getting fired from the Air Force.

Called, “My Job,” it seemed appropriate after what had jus’ happened in my life.

It’s not my place
To run the train.
The whistle I can’t blow.

It’s not my place
To say how far
The trains allowed to go.

It’s not my place
To shoot off steam
Nor even clang the bell.

But let the damn thing
Jump the track…
And see who catches hell!

I decided to tuck in my backpack as I left the home I had grown up in.

It was the start of the weekend and many of us decided to head over to the NCO club.  As I understand, somewhere around midnight a couple of the guy’s decided to drag me away from the bar and “escort” me home.

I don’t remember this as I was pretty tight.

When I woke up the following Saturday morning, I rolled over to find myself safely in my rack. I laid there for a few minutes dreading the possibility of a hangover, but none was detected.

Finally, I decided to get up, shower and head for the chow-hall. It wasn’t until I had stood up that I discover an object that should have never been between my blankets, in my room or the barracks.

It was human skull! And I knew exactly where it had come from—our anatomy lab on the USAF/SAM campus.

If caught with it, I’d get in trouble. If caught with it, whomever put it in bed with me, would get in trouble and I didn’t want either to occur.

Thinking fast, I popped loose the metal panel of my wall locker and places the skull in the vacant space under the panel. I knew it would be secure there until I could sneak it back into the lab.

Unfortunately, before I could return it, the skull was discovered to be missing. Now there was no way I could smuggle it back into the lab and return it to its headless skeleton.

Refusing to panic, I went to the base exchange bought a small box, wrapped the skull in several pages from the San Antonio News, and I mailed to my brother Adam in Klamath.