Ghost

“From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties, and things that go bump in the night, good Lord, deliver us!” - Cornish prayer

We have a ghost in our house; his name is Pete; and, he’s just fine with me. It only seems right that a big ole’ rickety house built in 1903 would have a ghost…And, what better time than the week of Halloween, to talk about such things?

We first met Pete through hearsay. When we bought our home it was condemned and about a third destroyed by fire. It had been sitting vacant for over a year, and, well, yes, it did seem quite spooky. But, it wasn’t the house that let us know Pete was with us; it was people familiar with our house from past times who started stopping in to tell us about our ghost, as they passed by and noticed the work being done.

Apparently, the last family to inhabit the house before us was a large, creative, boisterous bunch with five kids. Those kids had a lot of friends and the house was what would now be called a “hang out house,” meaning it was a gathering place after school and before football games and for sleep-overs.

According to the accounts of the now-grown-up, once young visitors in our home, Pete was a young male entity who “liked to play tricks” especially on the kids spending time in his home. He was never malicious and only rarely appeared as the ghost-like image one might expect. He mostly just enjoyed “hanging out” with the kids and sometimes took their car keys or made noises in the night, probably just to remind them he was here.

We heard a lot of Pete stories as we restored our home, so we were primed for him to make a grand appearance once we moved in - that, it turns out, is not Pete’s style. It took him months to do anything at all, and when he finally appeared, all he did was play a series of notes on the piano or strike several random hits on my son’s drum set – only occasionally, in the middle of the night.

“Not much of a ghost there,” we thought, probably all four secretly glad that is all we had inherited...But, when the kids hit high school, Pete began to have some fun.

True to the home’s history, it was once again a “hang out house,” and, more than once, after a football game or during a sleep-over, one of our guests would have something come up missing. That happened often enough that Pete became a legend in our time, as well, and the kids would call him by name, tell stories about him, and, when necessary, ask him politely for whatever was missing, and, every time, the object would reappear, within about a half hour, in an obvious spot where we had all been looking.

One night Pete hid one of my son’s friend’s car keys, and let them reappear again, after the young man said, “All right, Pete – enough! I know you’re here. I just want to go home!” That young man told his girlfriend’s dad about the event (probably because he got the girl home late…) and that dad, it turned out, knew all about Pete, from his experiences in our home, when he was in high school…

What we heard about Pete seemed to mesh with our experience. He was good natured and loved it when the house was full of noise and energy. The only time he got grumpy was when he thought his beloved house was in danger (and we heard tales of very scary things being seen in the windows during the time the house was empty and folks were creeping around outside, perhaps hoping to steal one of the pretty mantels or ornate fireplace covers…) or when things got too quiet.

I didn’t experience Pete first hand until the year both kids left for college. One morning I was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and the kitchen clock flew off the wall, onto the floor. Startled, I picked it up and hung it back on the wall. A few minutes later, it flew off the wall again…”Wait a minute,” I thought…”this must be Pete!”

“I know you miss them, Pete,” I said. “I do, too! But it’s just you and me here now, buddy, so let’s make the best of it.” The clock never flew off the wall again…

A few years later, during the week my daughter got married, our house was once again full of young vibrant energy and Diet Coke cans started flying off the top of the fridge. (That is where we keep canned drinks.) This had never happened before, but then it hit me - my son-in-law-to-be was a big Diet Coke drinker and Pete was mad that he was taking Pete’s friend away.

We talked about it and my daughter suggested that Pete “just wants to be included.” So, we “sent” him an invitation to the wedding by putting one addressed to “Pete” on top of the fridge. And, we told him we’d set him a place for him at the family table at the reception, which is exactly what we did. The Coke cans stopped flying, and I like to think Pete had a great time dancing in his ghostly best, the night his friend, my daughter got married.

I don’t’ know if ghosts are “real,” but I like to think the nice ones like Pete are. After all, wouldn’t any house or family be lucky to have such a loyal, fun-loving being standing by, taking watch, and enjoying the unique energy that each house and family have?