Attending the ancestorsMy brother cleaning one of my relatives tombstones in the old Cravens cemetery near Burnt Prairie, IL
I signed up for Ancestry.ca a few days ago and I am now obsessed with downloading all the census forms regarding my ancestors. You can learn a lot from the forms and it is like a gateway to your families history.
Todays post was inspired by the Willow Manor blog: http://willowmanor.blogspot.com/ where she posts a ghost story about her house.
The house I grew up in had a quiet spirit that would come and gently sit on the bed I was sleeping on in an upstairs bedroom. This only happened occasionally as the only way I would sleep upstairs would be if I had a friend stay over night. It didn't always happen, but it did happen several times through the years. My family always kidded me about my "spook". Shortly after my mother passed away, I was telling my sister-in-law about the occurences and looked over to see my brother nodding his head. This is the self-same older (much older) brother that joined in the jibing about my ghosts. He finally admitted that he too had been visited by some sort of energy upstairs.
I decided to be brave one summer when I was home from college and sleep upstairs (my usual bedroom was downstairs) Night after night, I thought I could hear breathing or soft footsteps on the stairs. The baseboards along the walls would glow faintly. Irritated at being afraid, I had finally had enough one night and announced out loud that I didn't believe in ghosts. A sound like that of a large heavy stone (think small bowling ball) falling on the roof was my answer. I vacated and spent the rest of the summer in my regular bedroom.
When my Dad moved from the house in the 1970's he sold it to a childhood playmate. They have never experienced the ghost.
The house I grew up in had a quiet spirit that would come and gently sit on the bed I was sleeping on in an upstairs bedroom. This only happened occasionally as the only way I would sleep upstairs would be if I had a friend stay over night. It didn't always happen, but it did happen several times through the years. My family always kidded me about my "spook". Shortly after my mother passed away, I was telling my sister-in-law about the occurences and looked over to see my brother nodding his head. This is the self-same older (much older) brother that joined in the jibing about my ghosts. He finally admitted that he too had been visited by some sort of energy upstairs.
I decided to be brave one summer when I was home from college and sleep upstairs (my usual bedroom was downstairs) Night after night, I thought I could hear breathing or soft footsteps on the stairs. The baseboards along the walls would glow faintly. Irritated at being afraid, I had finally had enough one night and announced out loud that I didn't believe in ghosts. A sound like that of a large heavy stone (think small bowling ball) falling on the roof was my answer. I vacated and spent the rest of the summer in my regular bedroom.
When my Dad moved from the house in the 1970's he sold it to a childhood playmate. They have never experienced the ghost.
