Hospice Plus' Gala on Derby Eve

On Friday night I attended Hospice Plus' Gala on Derby Eve. My friend, Angela Bailey-Davis, is the events coordinator for Hospice Plus and she coordinated this fabulous event every year. When she wrote me and asked me if I'd like to come in and be a photographer for the event, of course I was ecstatic. It offered me the opportunity to put on a formal dress, visit with old friends, and take pictures for a good cause.

Angie and I go way back. She was my boss in a former life and we even vacationed together in Ireland and England. The night was fantastic and I had a ball. If you'd like, check out some of my pictures from the event...


Hospice Plus' Gala on Derby Eve

Book release

We've had a very eventful week here in the Patrick-Howard household. My book, HAUNTED ESTILL COUNTY, was released last week. It was just in time for the Mushroom Festival. We set up a booth there and had a great time talking to everyone and seeing people that we don't usually get the chance to visit with. Even more amazing was the fact that people I had never spoken to before came up to my table and told me about even MORE ghost stories that I hadn't heard. That was by far the best part of the day!

Although it was overcast and rainy, we sold out of books in about 6 hours. (Pete even sold the display copy while I was taking Iris to see the goats...) I've gotten several Amazon orders, too, so I am working to fulfill them. A new order has been placed to the publisher and I hope to have more copies in about 10 days.

Both local papers contacted me about doing an interview. I am very excited about talking to the Estill Tribune today. I am equally excited about the new cafe, Thyme on Broadway, that is opening in May. We are working together to host a reading/signing for me later in the month. I'd like to bring in a local singer to do a few songs like "Long Black Veil" and other spooky tunes while we're there, too.

I created a FB page called "Haunted Estill County" and we've had a lot of fun on it. People are adding more stories and sharing memories of some of the houses that they grew up in. It's nice to be able to communicate with people from the county on such a friendly platform.

If you're interested in checking out my website, you can find it HERE:

Rebecca's website

If you want to visit the "Haunted Estill County" Facebook page, you can find it HERE:

Haunted Estill County

My Views on George Strait's "Cowboy Rides Away" tour

For my birthday this year, Pete got me a ticket to see George Strait on his farewell tour. I say “a” ticket because at $90 a pop we couldn’t afford two. So, I attended the show at Rupp Arena with nearly 22,000 other fans, although technically I was there by myself.

Now I know that artists have a tendency to do “farewell tours” and go into retirement, only to come back years later (I’m looking at YOU, Garth Brooks) but I wanted to see George. I had my reasons. For one thing, the man is 60 years old. While he might tour again in the future, he is as good now as he will ever be and he’s still kind of in his prime. I want to remember him the way that he is. I know it sounds silly, but there are some artists I love so much that I find myself having trouble seeing them do shows in their 70s and 80s because their voices aren’t the same, their stage presence isn’t the same…it just makes me sad. There are exceptions to this, like Don Williams and Kris Kristofferson. But they have always kind of been older men to me for most of my life anyway. I knew George in his younger years. He got his start in 1981 and I remember that. I have lived throughout the duration of his popularity and musical career.

At any rate, the show opened with Martina McBride, whom I have mixed feelings about. I don’t dislike her but I don’t love her. I rarely keep the station on when she comes on but she doesn’t have the effect on me like, oh say, Kenny Chesney or Jason Aldean do.

Martina probably has one of the strongest voices in country music. Unfortunately, the industry has never quite known what to do with that voice. When she first started rising in the country music world, she had the misfortune to do so at the same time that artists Shania Twain, Lisa Stewart, and Ronna Reeves came about. The misfortune lay in the fact that all four of these singers had long brown hair. Record companies were afraid that people wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. (Because, clearly, Shania’s voice sounds identical to Martina’s.) Lisa Stewart had to dye her hair blond, Martina had to hack all of hers off, Shania got to keep hers, and Ronna Reeves faded off into oblivion.

Then, what to do with Martina? She was never marketed as a sex symbol, although she’s a very attractive woman. She wasn’t marketed to teenagers because she was too old (gasp, she had to be in her late twenties at least). So who WAS she? Her early music was some of her best since she was so directionless. “Cheap Whiskey” might have been covered by Patty Loveless or one of the other soulful women of the 1980s, it was that traditional sounding. “Two More Bottles of Wine” WAS covered by Emmylou Harris although I find myself liking Martina’s better.

Then, she recorded and released “Independence Day” which turned out to be a monstrous success that I highly doubt anyone saw coming. About a woman who kills herself and her abusive husband by setting the house on fire, the video and song raced up the charts. She had a bonafide hit! Now, what to do with it?

What followed over the course of the next 20 years was a mix of other songs trying to recapture that hit status. Some might call them “issue songs.” I call them “emotionally manipulative” songs. Neither well written or tuneful, they identified Martina as the type of singer who understood real pain and real issues like abusive husbands, cancer, child abuse, neglect, teenage dramas, childhood cancer (not to be confused with the adult cancer which she also sang about), etc. etc. Songs like “God’s Will”, “Concrete Angel”, “I’m Gonna Love You Through This”, “Love’s the Only House”, and so on might have sent messages and been played to death at the time but are largely forgettable.

When she released a song from the “Runaway Bride” soundtrack called “Baby I Love You” she hit gold again. It was played to death. It was also really, really bad. I’m sorry, but I am approximately the same age she was at the time and I can’t sing a line like “baby you’re so cool” and keep a straight face. Other songs ran along the same line. (To be fair, “Happy Girl” was on a previous album, but it’s just as bad.) I blame this on the Shania Factor. Shania was making tons of money singing inane songs with simple lyrics. Others were bound to follow.

I have always secretly suspected that when she wasn’t singing songs that were being marketed to teenagers or emotionally manipulative ones, she was probably pretty good. There have been a few standouts in her career for me: Cry on the Shoulder of the Road, Whatever You Say, There You Are, Anyway, Wrong Again, and Beyond the Blue.

So then we get to the Martina part of the show.

First of all, girlfriend is frighteningly skinny. (Note to self: send Martina cheesecake or two for Easter.) Although she’s showing her age now, she is still a beautiful woman.

There is a reason why I have never tried to sign any of her songs-I can’t hit those notes. Well, neither can she, as it turns out. While her voice is powerful, it’s incredibly hard to use that much power and still go that high without going flat. She let her band and her back-up singer (Carolyn Dawn Johnson and where the hell has SHE been for the past 10 years?) carry her. A lot. But that was okay.

And it turns out I was probably right about her music. She only sang one of those emotionally manipulative songs (I’m Gonna Love You through This) and that’s probably because it’s off her new album. And not one of the inane teenager things. She stuck to the GOOD stuff and even threw in a few classics. I should say that my side of the arena did not sing along with her until halfway through when she belted out Lynn Anderson’s “Rose Garden.”

I believe she was a little surprised when she got a standing ovation for “Broken Wing” before the song had even finished. I wasn’t surprised it happened. Heck, people were probably just relieved to finally hear a woman in country music who could sing. Have you heard the radio these days?

And, I had the audacity to tear up during her high-powered version of “Anyway.” I know, it’s not like me to be so weepy but it’s actually a good message (better than the messages of the “issue” songs as if that weren’t ironic enough) and she did well with it. I wasn’t the only one.

A funny moment: Martina was singing "This One's For the Girls" and the camera was scanning the audience, looking for people to put on the big screen. The last shot got tons of cheers, which I am sure Martina thought were for her. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, it was for the dancing woman with the "Damn Strait" T-shirt on. 

Now, on to George.

As mentioned before, I grew up with George. I remember the early stuff like it was yesterday. There is literally a George Strait album and song to represent every period of my life. From the early “A Fire I Can’t Put Out” (age 4 watching Hee Haw) to the “Pure Country” soundtrack (ah, the teenage years) to the rollicking Elvis-inspired “We Really Shouldn’t Be Doing This” (living in Nashville and trying to be a singer myself) and beyond. George has been there with me for a long, long time. He’s been a constant.

The stage was in the middle of the arena and it tickled me to see that off to the side there was a cluster of director’s chairs set up bearing the names of his wife, son, and daughter-in-law. After 30 years I like the fact that Norma still tours with him.

The audience was a mix of ages, genders, and income brackets. There were high heeled cowboy boots, fur coats (it was COLD outside), mini dresses (never let the weather be a reason for not dressing up), sequins, cowboy hats, and more blue plaid shirts than I ever seen at one time. There must have been a sale going on somewhere. (Pete sat outside in the hallway during the concert. He said the people watching was spectacular.)

I sat between two couples who were nice, quiet, and polite concert goers. They clapped where they should, stood at the appropriate times, and sang along at levels that were appropriate to the ears of those around them. I wish I could say the same about the woman who sat behind me. As she as she sat down she bellowed, “Why do our tickets have to be in ‘Old People Ville?’” I should mention that the couples on either side of me were probably in their early 20s.

She proceed to scream at ear popping decibels throughout the entire show. She talked just as loudly and had to narrate the entire concert. “I hope he sings ‘Marina del Rey’. I will go crazy if he sings ‘Marina del Rey.’ Oh God, I LOVE ‘Marina del Rey.’” So when he went into the first few notes of that song I braced myself. Sure enough, it was a screaming fit like we hadn’t heard yet and it culminated with, “If I have a daughter, I’m going to name her MARINA DEL REY!” Poor kid.

George looked fine, as always, and sang for at least two solid hours. He started with material from his early years and took on some obscure songs and some that were never released. I was happy that when he made it to the “Pure Country” soundtrack he chose “The King of Broken Hearts” and “Where the Sidewalk Ends” instead of going with the obvious “Heartland” or “I Cross My Heart.” He probably figures that on his last tour he’s going to just sing whatever he wants to because after 30 years of touring I am sure he’s tired of the same material every single night.

George brought Martina back on stage for “Jackson” and “Golden Rings.” He also stopped midway for a ceremony in which he bestowed a mortgage free house and $6,000 worth of groceries to an injured vet and his family.

With the stage in the center, he did his best to play to all four sides. He generally did about two songs per side and then rotated on to the other. Without running around in circles, I guess that was the best way to it. Of course, the big screens above the stage captured his every move, too, but I hate watching those because it makes me feel like I am just at home watching television.

I teared up for the second time during the night when he broke into “Troubadour” and flashes of the younger George appeared on those screens. I can’t think of George as being gone. When George Strait dies, it will feel like a chapter of my life has closed. When he came back for the encore and did “The Cowboy Rides Away” (also the name of his tour) I couldn’t even stay for the last few notes. That song has meant a lot to me over the years. During one of my worst teenage breakups I played it over and over every night so that I could cry myself to sleep. Not to mention the fact that I love the line “my heart is sinking like the setting sun” because I love alliterations.

It was an emotional night. It was a fun night. The chick behind me screamed so much that by the end MY throat hurt. I got drunk off the fumes of the people around me. And I am pretty sure that even though I was sitting in a section of approximately 1,000 people and was in row “o” George saw me and smiled at least once.

Making our window treatments

I love to shop and I like to buy cheap things and then make stuff out of them. So a few weeks ago I came up with this idea of making our window treatments for the whole house. I had never attempted such a thing, but there's a first time for everything!

So, here is a picture of our cornices and drapes for the dining room. Well, actually the picture is just one drape and one cornice but the other looks exactly the same. I still have to purchase a tie back and we're painting the walls kind of a caramel color, which will make the drapes look less washed out.

My cornices were made out of foam board (Hobby Lobby-$8) and I used an exacto knife to cut them out. The material is is a tablecloth I bought at a flea market. The curtains are made out of material that I also got at a flea market.

After the sides and tops of the cornices were cut out, I used a hot glue gun to glue them in place, making a three sided box. I used a staple gun to hold the material in place.

To hang them on the wall, L-brackets are put in right above the window. (They're not in here in this picture-the cornice is just perched on the window frame.)

I think in total, by the time you add up supplies and such, I spent around $8 per window. Once I find an interesting tie back and the walls get painted this weekend, I think our dining room will really shape up.

Haunted Estill County-the book

At the end of April, I will have a book coming out. HAUNTED ESTILL COUNTY is my collection of county-wide ghost stories. I think it will be a lot of fun!

In the meantime, here are some photos to get you ready...

Dream Job?

I am copying this over from my VT page...

At one point about 7 years ago I was offered a job in the mountains of New Hampshire. Things didn't go quite as planned...

So I figured that enough time has passed and I can now talk about the Mysteries of Center Tuftonboro, New Hampshire. People close to me, and even a few not so close, know these stories. However, I have been using them to entertain the good folks here in Wales and decided at last that they belong on the web in some form. I did a random search and didn’t find anything else posted about the subject at hand so I guess I’m the first…

It started on a wet and rainy day in The Middle of Nowhere, New Hampshire. I knew that I would be living out in the country, fairly far from anything of significance, but I had no idea I would be so isolated. No telephone, no television, no neighbors, nothing. The house was a big farmhouse, about two hundred years old, and I lived in the attic. There were offices below me so during the day it was quite social with lots of people buzzing about. At 5:00 pm, however, everything shut down and I was left alone. Alone, on a mountain, ten miles to the nearest town. I thought I could handle it. I had my laptop to work on my novel, some books that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet, and a CD player that would occasionally get in a radio station as well.

The first week was uneventful. I got to know the place a little bit, through walks and through drives in the country. I liked the fact that the lake was only a short walk down the hill from me and in the evenings it was kind of peaceful to sit on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs and watch the sky.

Week 2 was when I started going crazy.

The old wooden staircase that lead up to my room was noisy. There’s no way I could have sneaked down them at any time. A door at the bottom of the stairs was always kept shut. The hallway outside my room, leading to a storage room, was also noisy. No creeping around here. Well, one night I went to bed, read a little while, and switched off the light to go to sleep. I hadn’t been out for very long when I heard a ruckus on the stairwell. It wasn’t the soft creaking of my shoes or even someone of my size. This was “CLUMP, CLUMP.” At first I thought something had happened and someone was coming to get me. I didn’t have a phone, after all. So I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. The footsteps continued coming up the stairs. I flung open the door and switched on the light and-nothing. The stairwell was completely empty and the door at the bottom closed.

I was disturbed, but not enough to be scared so I went back to bed. I thought it could have possibly been the wind.

The next night I heard the same thing. I checked the time to see if it was happening the same time it did the night before, but it wasn’t. This time, I did not get up but lay in bed and listened. (With the light on at this point.) The steps reached the top of the stairs, seemed to pause at my door, and then went across the hall to the other room. I slept with the light on for the rest of the night.

I didn’t exactly start getting scared until the next night. I hadn’t slept well the night before, obviously, and tried wearing myself out by staying up as late as I could so that once I laid down I would be able to sleep. Once again, I drifted off, only to awaken an hour later to the footsteps. This time they were not on the stairwell, but outside my door. I listened for a moment and was about to get up when my bedroom door shook. It didn’t look like someone was trying to turn the knob; it just looked like someone hand their hands flat on the door and was pushing. This went on for several seconds and then I heard the footsteps walking away to the other room.

He next evening I closed the door to that other room. I had decided that whatever was inhabiting the upstairs seemed to like it and I didn’t want to look at it. Whenever I would have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night I would open my door and look right into that room and I was afraid that one night I would see something that I didn’t want to see.

A week went by with the same noises. By then I was sleeping with the lamp on and constantly on alert. A few other noises were added to it, and I discovered that they really started as soon as the sun went down. One night as I was taking my shower on the second floor, I heard the noises above me. Again, they stopped at my door and then went across the hallway to the other room. When I went back upstairs, the door to that room was open. I was not amused. But I DID find it interesting that I could hear the noises all over the house and not just upstairs.

The pounds and rumblings were enough to make me jittery, but when the voices started I knew I was at the end of my rope. It was about three in the morning and I had finally settled into some good sleep when the whispering started. It was quiet at first, and then gradually got louder. I could make out words know and then, but it was so soft that I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman’s voice. It came from outside my bedroom door. I listened to it for along time and then turned on my CD player to continuous repeat.

After a couple of nights hearing the voices, sometime the music would drown them out and sometimes not, I knew I had problems. I asked around some of the staff that worked below if anyone else had had any problems living there and everyone agreed that something was up. One guy who had lived there the year before said that a girl had lived in my room and in the middle of the night had jumped in her car and driven to his place saying, “I can’t take the noises anymore!” 

So knowing that I wasn’t entirely crazy helped. That night I opened the door to my bedroom and tried talking to them. “Look guys, I’m really tired. I have a migraine, and I just want to sleep. Can you please keep it down tonight?” I was answered by a thud in what I now referred to as “the Scary Room.”

The weekend was coming up. It was Thursday night. I had played around with going away for the weekend but I hadn’t made up my mind yet. That night I went to bed as usual, with the lights and CD player on, and tried to get some sleep. A short time later I heard noises that I had NEVER heard before. Someone was pounding on the door leading up to the stairwell. I knew it had to be a person this time so I threw open my door, ran down the stairs and flung open the stairwell door to-nothing. The pounding had only stopped when I was a few steps from the bottom and I hadn’t heard anyone run off. I stood there for a moment, confused, and THEN I heard a pounding on the front door downstairs. So I ran down another set of stairs to the front door. Just as I reached the door, the pounding stopped. I stood there for a second and THEN heard the pounding on the back door. It would be physically impossible for a single person to have gotten there that fast. Pounding on all of the doors. I didn’t look this time. I went back up to my room, threw some stuff in a bag, and drove to another girl’s house that I had become friendly with. I slept on the couch.

Of course, that next day I decided to do my little weekend trip. I went to Central Massachusetts for the weekend and on my way back I stopped in Salem to see the House of the Seven Gables. I figured that since I was in Salem I might look around at some of the witchy shops and while in one of them met a Wiccan woman who had been practicing for many years. I briefly told her about my experiences and she asked me if I had ever heard anything in my room. I had already considered this and said that no, the noises were always on the stairs, in the hallway, or in the other room. She then said that something was barring them from entering and asked me if I knew what it could be. No, I didn’t know. She was fairly persistent about it and kept saying, “Think about what’s in your room. Do you have anything lucky? A talisman? Stones? Crystals? Any spices or herbs? Any black candles?” No, I didn’t have any of those. What about photographs? Yes, I did have a photograph of my (deceased) grandmother by my bed. She said that it was possible that was the barrier-that I was being protected. But just in case she recommended a type of stone to buy and told me to place them at intervals around my bed. I had tried everything else.

That night I talked to my mom, who probably thought I was certifiably insane by then, and she recommended a line of salt at the door because supposedly spirits can’t cross it.

I tried both and sure enough, the next few nights were relatively peaceful. On the third night, the whispers came back. This time, I could make out exactly what they said, “Let her sleep. She doesn’t feel well. Let’s just leave.” At first I thought that perhaps it was someone playing a trick on me, but before I could get up and look a deep sleep fell over me and I had the first good night’s sleep I had had in weeks.

At the end of that week I went to Boston. By then my nerves were frazzled, I was grumpy, and I was at the end of my rope. I met three girls in my hostel and in the course of the evening told them what was happening. They were confused as to why I was remaining in the house and I told them that basically I didn’t have anywhere else to go at the moment. It felt so nice to talk to people about the situation that I almost forgot there was even a problem.

Until I got back home on Sunday night, however. 


It had been raining a lot and the road was unbelievably foggy. The road to the house wasn’t paved and what usually took me three or four minutes to drive took more than fifteen. I couldn’t even see the end of the car. The air was very still and not a breeze to be felt. When I finally made it to the house and got out of the car, a light suddenly flashed on in the room across the hall from me. I could see it from the parking lot. As I watched, a dark shadow seemingly stopped and looked out the window, and then the light went out. I went inside and started up the stairs, but I couldn’t do it. I heard the noises again. The walking and the whispers. As hard as I tried I absolutely could not make myself walk up those stairs to my room. At the bottom of the steps I sat down and cried and tried to ridicule myself for being such a big baby but it was hours before I could force myself to go.

I guess when I finally went I didn’t shut my bedroom door all the way. An hour later, I heard the pounding on the door only this time, my door flew open. I jumped out of bed and ran to shut it, but a pressure seemed to be built against it. Curiously, I closed it to without latching it and watched. It opened again. It didn’t force itself over like it would have in a breeze, but instead started opening and closing as if someone on the other side was playing a game with me. I watched it in fascination and then remembered my digital camera. I have the capability to record on it as well and I picked it up and started shooting. I recorded a few seconds on it and then the movement stopped.

The next night I went into Wolfeboro, a neighboring town, and had dinner at a pub. The waitress was very friendly and I had had her before. She told me that I wasn’t looking well and I told her that I hadn’t been sleeping. A little while later two women sat down at the booth next to me and began talking. They were telling ghost stories. Intrigued, I invited myself into the conversation and told them briefly about my experiences. I did not tell them where I lived or what town it was or anything like that, but several minutes into my descriptions one of the women goes, “You’re not living in Canaan Valley in Center Tuftonboro are you?” I was startled. That’s exactly where I was living. She went on to tell me that it was supposedly one of the most haunted places in the state of New Hampshire. The waitress came back and got into our conversation and told me that the lake has a lot of underground caves and tunnels in it and that it is reportedly haunted as well. I lived in the valley on the lake. Great. I was probably getting it from both sides. They left me with some advice and the waitress said that I should be all right, that I had a good energy about me.

But I wasn’t convinced. 



It’s sufficed to say that I didn’t last long in New Hampshire. Only six weeks. That was probably five weeks too long. By the time I left I was a wreck. It wasn’t until I got down to Florida with Ian that I was able to sleep all the way through the night.

I did manage to get one of the staff people to tell me what they thought the noises were from. Apparently, a man had hung himself in the room across from me. I don’t know if that was true or not, but I did definitely feel like it was a male presence and not female or child.    

You Know They're Here (Or Do I?)

I don’t normally do book reviews, unless something really stands out to me, but I’m going to start this year out with two books that I received over Christmas because I think they warrant being discussed.

As most people know, I am a big fan of all things paranormal and love the show A HAUNTING. (Although I do think it’s funny how they are constantly slamming paganism and seem to think that most haunting are the works of demons.) Both of the following books were actually episodes on this show. The first one was called DARK FOREST and the second on called FEAR HOUSE. So, let’s get started!

Book: You Know They’re Here

Author: Paul Kenyon

Oh dear. Where to start? Okay, to begin with, I am about 99% sure that this book was self-published. If it wasn’t self-published then it was at least put out by a publishing company that had a very limited budget and therefore had to curtail certain expenses. Like editing.

The book itself is more than 500 pages. The editor in me could have easily cut out more than 250 of those. An additional 100 would have been on thin ice.

The premise revolves around Paul, a supposed night guard for an allegedly haunted house in Hinsdale, New York in the 1970s. I will get to why I say “supposed” in a minute. As far as “allegedly” goes; I don’t doubt that there were things going on there. I just doubt some of his story.

Paul is a guy in his early 20s (22 I think) whose wife works with Clara Dandy, a woman who the local paper is doing a story on, thanks to the paranormal bumps and thumps that are going on in and around her house. Looking for a good laugh (that right there rubbed me the wrong way), Paul talks his wife into inviting themselves up to the house so that he can poke around. (He has never met the family, but uses Debbie as his way in.) Although he is disdainful of the fact that dozens of people carouse the house and property, hoping to get a glimpse of something spooky, it never seems to occur to him that he is essentially doing the same thing. Over the course of the next year and a half, he spends a good amount of time at the Hinsdale house, looking for ghosts…or something.

Okay, so here’s the deal…I was expecting that eventually the Dandy family would appoint him night guard and pay him a salary. This is what the back of the book indicated. This never happens, though. In fact, he visits the house almost every night for a week at one point and the parents don’t even know he’s there! Instead, he and a buddy are poking around with their flashlight, trying to see something. Ironically, whenever they do hear or see a ghost, they analyze it to death and seem to be shocked. Why keep going if you’re not a believer? 

Paul continuously invites himself over to the point where I started to feel uncomfortable. (I’m not the only one, either. Other reviews on Amazon say something similar.) He speaks from the point of the past-middle aged man that he is now, but you have to remember that at the time of the story he was a twentysomething guy who did not know this family and just kept poking around on their property, eventually calling himself a guard.

He does seem to make friends with the family. At least, they do call him and talk to him. It is not a friendship that extends beyond his visits to the house, however. For instance, they don’t visit him, they don’t go out to the local diner and grab a bite to eat, and none of them come to the hospital to visit his wife or his son even though their baby is born 8 weeks early and is in the hospital for quite a while.

How do I know that none of this happened? Because he talks about every.single.thing that happened. In fact, the haunted part of the story doesn’t really even pick up until nearly 200 pages into the book. Until that point, you get endless drivel regarding his business that he had to close, his conversations with his wife, what he had for breakfast, etc. None of this has anything to do with the supposed subject matter of the book, but there you go.

After visiting the house for awhile, Paul starts feeling things and a priest tells him that he’s psychic. Okay, the priest doesn’t really tell him that, but that’s kind of what is implied. Paul decides that he has a special relationship with Laura, the 13 year old, (I won’t even get into that one) because she is also “sensitive.” Together, they can sense when things are going to happen.

With his new-found powers, Paul investigates the hauntings by running towards things when he feels a certain amount of energy, inviting himself along on tours when the world-renowned psychic visits, making himself part of an exorcism, and making special phone calls to the priest who resides over the haunting.

He talks splendidly about the family and how they are his “friends” but I have to wonder. At one point, when he tries to take off for the tree line because he gets a feeling, Clara flat-out tells him to leave it alone. When another random guy shows up at the house and Paul tries to take him upstairs to feel the energy up there, Clara stops him. Her husband even tells him that he spends more time at the house than he (the father) does. Paul is also confused when the Discovery Channel interviews the family about their story for the show yet he doesn’t get asked to participate. Plus, even though he supposedly formed all these bonds with these folks, he doesn’t really communicate with anyone but Clara these days.

Another part that annoyed me regarded his wife. Debbie was pregnant throughout most of the story. She also worked full time. So, Paul was at home, helping her and being there for her, right? Well, no. Most nights it seemed that he was traipsing around the Dandy property with his friend, Tim, and waking their teenage son, Mike, up to ask questions or borrow things. Debbie, on the other hand, won’t go to the house unless it’s daylight. I didn’t blame her. It was no surprise to me to find out that their marriage didn’t last.

Sometimes, Paul’s sensitivity and ability to pick up on energies were just aggravating. The incidents seemed to hit at totally inappropriate times and reminded me of someone who wanted attention. (I’m sorry if that sounds harsh. I don’t disbelieve him, but I have felt things like he did before and I kept my mouth shut for the good of everyone else around.) 

For instance, everyone is having a fun time at the Labor Day picnic when suddenly Paul gets his with negative energy and starts freaking out so everyone has to pack up the food and go inside. In another instance, Paul and Debbie have brought their new baby over to visit and after a little while, Paul gets hit with energy and it has everyone frantically throwing stuff in the car so that they can leave. Debbie herself even remarks that when things like that happened to Paul they all got scared even though nothing actually happened to anyone else. I felt her frustration.

Somewhere, in this book, there is a good story. The paranormal incidents were freaky. I was scared for the family. These were very negative forces at play and nothing to be joked around with. That Paul and his buddy seemingly took them lightly and played Ghostbusters made me mad. The family was at their breaking point more than once and Paul’s presence did nothing to help that.

The story about a man who had little to define himself with (he played in a band and worked part time at a sub shop) and ended up inviting himself to become involved with the local haunted house to give him some direction is an interesting story. I’m sure that’s not the way he saw himself, but it’s a way he came across.

If you are interested in the family’s version of what happened, then I recommend you checking out the episode of A HAUNTING. It’s on You Tube at the moment. Clara Dandy also wrote her own account of what happened and you can find it in a book entitled ECHOES OF THE PAST. It is a truly interesting tale and probably one of the better episodes.

In a subsequent entry, I’ll talk about FEAR HOUSE and the mess that it was.


ETA: In doing further research I discovered that Paul has a Facebook page and that some of the Dandys are friends with him and "fans" on his "fan page." So perhaps I did misread their relationship and they are fond of the guy. In that case, I think it's the author's fault that I walked away with the conclusion I reached. 

Our Year in Review

Happy 2013 y'all! Instead of doing a boring, newsletter type wrap-up deal, I thought I would post our year in pictures. They were the best of times, they were the...actually, this year was pretty good (all surgeries aside). So let's see what happened!

JANUARY

The year didn't start out so great, with Iris needing tests up in Cincinnati for her seizures.

 Luckily, we managed to squeeze in a trip to the museum anyway to cheer everyone up!

FEBRUARY


 In February, we found out that I had to have brain surgery. In other news, Iris learned to play checkers.

MARCH

March saw three birthdays (mine, Sam's, and Mom's) and our vacation to Gatlinburg. It was also, unfortunately, the month that saw my hometown ripped to shreds by a tornado (on my birthday, no less).


Mom's birthday was slightly better since she had a chicken pot pie at Hanger's. 

We also traveled back to Cincy for me to get another brain scan. This was less important than the trip to the rotating restaurant on top of the hotel and Joseph Beth's. 

We also (you guessed it) went back to the museum where I learned that being 4'10" (yes, that's really my height-I'm a couple of inches away from legally being a dwarf) is not ideal in helping to build a bridge.

We also visited one of our favorite places in Estill County (Aldersgate Camp) where Sam was chased by a lamb. Of course, we took plenty of pictures because nothing says good parenting like laughing while your child gets chased by a farm animal. 

APRIL

In April, I saw Dwight Yokam. Do we really need to say anything else about the month? I think not.

MAY


May saw lots of excitement. Mom bought the farm. Okay, I'm kidding. But she did find A farm and it's very pretty. This is a picture of it.

We also took a trip to Holiday World since I found out that once I had brain surgery I would no longer be able to ride rollercoasters. You know, we had to squeeze in as many as we could at the last minute.

Sam and I went to a circus, too. I love having people flying around above me.

Naturally, we took long drives to random places and placating the children with McDonalds while I took pictures.

JUNE


I had brain surgery in June. That's about all I can remember of that month, thanks to a combination of anesthesia, drugs, and (you know) the fact that they cut into my head.

hardly a scar at all!

And because once wasn't enough, I went back 6 weeks later and had another surgery done.

At least the kids had fun at the museum.

That's our friend, Leslie, who met Mom at the museum with the kids.

Oh, yes, and our cat had kittens. Guess Tiger is not a boy.

JULY

In July, Hell came close to freezing over when we sent the kids to Bible School.

 

I also lost a ton of weight thanks to a spinal fluid leak. Best diet EVER!

Toby had a birthday.

Then Iris had a birthday.

Like father, like daughter

And somewhere in there we celebrated the 4^th of July.

AUGUST

In August, we had lots to do! For instance, we explored more old houses. Like this one. 

The most important thing, of course, was the Clay Walker concert Ashley and I attended. We got a little close.

Then there was the Hazel Green Homecoming. Iris was pretty for awhile and then she decided that clothes were optional. 

That's Sam on the front porch of my old house in Hazel Green

On a sobering note, we went through West Liberty. I was sad to see my old theater was gone, but appreciated their optimism.

Sam started kindergarten. There was lots of screaming and crying and begging, but eventually I calmed down and everything was fine.

SEPTEMBER

September really saw a push in our house hunting adventures. We looked at lots of places and finally put in an offer on one. It would be three more months before we would close, though. In the meantime, Iris remained happy. 

Unfortunately, it was back to hazel Green for the funeral of one of our friends.

On the plus side, I did get to see Don Williams in concert.

And Sam got to play at Kidsfest.

Iris got some kind of weird rash that lasted a month. 

And we visited the Amish.

OCTOBER

Thanks to Sam’s love of costumes, every day is like Halloween at our house so there wasn’t a huge change in the air in October.

Iris did learn to drive, however.

Pete learned to make BBQ pulled pork. 

Sam lost his first tooth and bought a sword with a very interesting handle.

He also went on his first field trip where he picked apples in sleet. 

And, of course, we all went trick-or-treating. 

See how excited they are?

NOVEMBER

Being from England and all, they had Sam dress up as a Pilgrim for Thanksgiving at school. 

Iris decided that the new yard was okay with her.

Pete picked me some mistletoe in our backyard, leading me to name our new place “Mistletoe Ridge”, much to his embarrassment. 

 

And I made a few pumpkin pies from scratch. (Yep, that’s actually carving up the pumpkin. Nope, nobody has gotten food poisoning yet!)

DECEMBER

 

December saw lots of activity. 

 

We visited Mount Sterling for their open houses. 

Toby's grave got decorated. 

 

The kids started a band. 

 

Iris and Sam were not impressed with White Hall’s Victorian Christmas. 

Although Iris did learn to say “cheese.”

And took herself shopping. 

We attended Irvine’s jazz concert and prettied ourselves up. 

 Iris helped Pete cut down our tree. 

Sam took a nap. 

 

And we all dressed up like Santa.

Iris just couldn't contain herself from the excitement of Christmas Eve. 

And Christmas Day saw everyone sleep in until noon. We're such party animals. 

 

Happy New Year!