THE PARANORMAL IS ALL QUITE NORMAL

I don’t criss-cross the continent, as some ghost sleuths do, looking for cold spots in old houses, buildings, theatres, government buildings, courthouses, hotels, motels or on golf courses.....where I’m told there are a few hackers (like me in life) who don’t know they’ve expired this mortal coil. They’re still trying to lower their handicap. While I do read the tomes of those who have sought out wee ghosties, on moor or highland, from cemeteries to musty attics in venerable old homes, I just don’t actively hunt them out, and have never tried to do so, as I respect their privacy as they observe mine. Unless of course they have an agenda to resolve. If I happen upon a spirited traveller, beyond the present hard realities of life as we know it, I certainly don’t look away or tremble with fear. If we accidentally run into one another, or it’s a planned visit or lasting occupation of the premises etc., well that’s my kind of ghost sleuthing. Easy access.

Since my father Ed passed away a year ago, it has been pretty quiet on the ghost front. As I do believe in the work of medium John Edward, and his advice to validate those who have “crossed over” as being spiritual qualities and quantities, there isn’t much necessity, I suppose for any spirited intervention. My wife and I are fully cognizant of the spirit-kind, and we aren’t afraid of occasionally tossing our family and friends who have passed, a random “hello.....how are you Dave, or Ed, Merle, Norm, Harriett, Uncles John, Jack, Vince, friends Charlie, Dave, or Randy. We don’t get an “other side” pat on the back or anything but a feeling that they are aware of our acceptance of their existence, in one form or another, in the great beyond. I have always believed in life after death, although never having been particularly religious. My cross-boundary chatting, and it can be in mind if not voice, has come since watching John Edward’s “Crossing Over,” and fully appreciating what it means to validate those who have passed. It’s as simple as believing there is more to existence than what we see in our daily lives. And by giving it all the benefit of the doubt that there’s acceptance and accommodation on both “our plane,”...... and there’s. I validate these spirit-kind, each day, by simply acknowledging that they continue on, and can make contact. I don’t need a seance or a visit to the cemetery to communicate my sentiments.

Two friends in particular, who passed away some years ago now, are always in mind when I’m working on a research project. Dave Brown, my outdoor education chum, (I wrote his biography).....who was my mentor, in both history and vintage book collecting, is on my spiritual speed-dial. As I trusted Dave’s judgement in life, I value his input just as much from “the beyond.” I can’t tell you how many books the man has helped me find since his death. I’m not shy about asking him to help me find an evasive book or file folder in my cluttered archives. Nothing happens immediately. I don’t think those who have passed are on-the-clock if you know what I mean. From a week to three in waiting, nine times out of ten, I will trip, or spill a coffee, topple over a stack of books, and low and behold.....the evasive book is revealed. As for the statistics that it is not a manifestation of spirits at all, just stupid coincidence, well.....call it what you will. It won’t stop me from asking for help in the future. There are other times I will just say hello to my research partner, Charlie Wilson, a dear man and talented writer, who I worked with on a sport’s biography back in the late 1990's. He’d call me several times a week, and we’d talk for an hour about history and research obstacles, and about his life as a front line reporter in an American city, back in the days of widespread civil unrest. I learned so much from these two gentlemen, and I’ll tell you, whey they passed, each was a huge blow to my own writing work. It’s why I simply refused to distance myself just because of death. Heck with that! I needed their inspiration plain and simple. So I started to mindfully greet them whenever I sat at this keyboard, and needed a spark of motivation..... or requireed some strategy for researching something that had or has now become stubborn and unyielding. Both men were doggedly determined to succeed, no matter what they were working on. I can still so clearly hear their friendly voices on the telephone.....while I was sitting, or pondering without luck, at this same desk.....tapping at this worn-out keyboard. While my critics will call me delusional, and that you can not talk to dead people.....well, I guess there’s worse things in life, as long as don’t start clucking like a chicken or chasing vehicles down the road like a wayward dog.

Suzanne and I have both had many encounters with wayward spirits......at least “wayward” to us. They obviously remained in dwellings we have lived and worked, and didn’t move out entirely, you might say, with their respective friends and family. Back through this extensive blog you will find these references, and we attest to the truthfulness of each experience. Yet by far, our encounters generally, are from subtle inspirations and messages from the other side, that are by no means unsettling or unwelcome. Some will say these are “hauntings” none the less. We see it as the result of being “okay” with death, and confident, that in this big, complicated universe, there’s a lot more stuff science has yet figured out. Such as parallel dimensions. Until we find the “other side” by using the investigation of science, we will, in the meantime, continue to acknowledge, out of a sense of good will and kinship, those we wish to include as part of our contemporary existence. We certainly don’t let out a roll call each day, and maybe only once every three or four months, will I make a point of rattling off a larger greeting to include more friends and family......because coincidentally I was thinking of these departed souls at the time, for any number of reasons. If I think about Dave Brown, I will validate the reminiscence with a simple greeting......much as I did when Dave’s canoe-laden truck arrived here for summer weekends, and he ambled up the driveway with an arm load of books for our kids. When I recall a neat moment with my dad, because of some parallel I’ve been exposed to, I don’t worry about any prescribed protocol but rather, exercise what I feel is appropriate.....and if I vocalize it......chances are it will sound like, “Hi Eddy....what’s going on?” Now if you hear me say that, and you notice there’s nobody around me, be polite and let a man have his fun. My dad and I had a lot of memorable “bull sessions” shooting the breeze over a lifetime. And we’re still communicating but he just doesn’t make the coffee any more.

Some people do consult this blog series looking for traditional ghost stories. There are a few of those printed here, and being open to paranormal potential, validating that there is indeed a dimension that allows ghosts to wander about, we expect a full life of future spirit-full encounters. We just don’t get scared about visitations. Rather we look forward to contact and have not had bad experiences.....just a few we didn’t understand at the time......but dealt with after preliminary research and a heaping helping of open-mindedness. It might be the sudden aroma of lilacs in the middle of winter, the wafting scent of fresh cookies from the oven, when nothing is being baked, or the strange thought of a name or word that seems so wildly out of place. One day, as I was shovelling snow, I all of a sudden had a reference to “witch-hazel” repeating in my mind. Now how the heck does that happen? I’m pretty sure I know but do you? I knew nothing about witch-hazel other than my most basic school-day knowledge of it as basic countryside flora and fauna. I knew it had a medicinal use but I couldn’t tell you what it treated.

After about an hour of this, I went and asked Suzanne whether or not her mother could be trying to get us a message by using a reference to “witch-hazel” in order to jog our memories. The short answer is “yes.” It seemed Harriet and family did have something or other to do with this old remedy for infections and skin irritations.....but it also got Suzanne thinking about many other situations and activities that could have had witch-hazel as a guidepost. I had an infection, at this time, on my index finger, and after hearing this said, “Well, why don’t we go out an buy some, and see if it works.” It did. We now use it all the time for a variety of conditions and it has always worked. Now I don’t think Harriet was trying to administer first aid to my injured finger by introducing witch-hazel to my mindset that day. It did spawn some reckoning and parallels for my wife, and so this intrusion was welcome and useful. Some are a little annoying because we can find no legitimate parallel. I get things like this happening all the time. I always apologize to the other side, that if they are indeed trying to communicate some message to me, the should please allow for the fact I’m a little slower on the pick-up these days..... so I suggest they “leave a message and I’ll get back to you!”

In the new year we will be making occasional entries on this blog-site, of experiences we haven’t yet documented and new ones encountered along the way. But these accounts should not chill or frighten you, as they didn’t shock us when they happened. We are all a wee bit wary of the unknown and that’s a good thing. Blind acceptance isn’t good either. I will never chase away a ghost. I will beg of it to stay a while, and let me in on its secrets and aspirations here on earth. But I will, most importantly, validate them.

Thanks for visiting this blog site. I have some more Tom Thomson material in preparation for later this spring. Cheers.

HAUNTED BED OKAY - BUT STILL ODD OCCURRENCES

Since bringing home the death bed.....an early piece of Canadiana, that was used for funerary purposes by a former Toronto minister, (purchased from an estate) we have most certainly had an interesting sequence of household disruptions and my wife and I seldom get past 3:30 a.m., without suddenly raising in bed wondering why one woke the other up. We still get radiators starting without being set by thermostat, and leaks of water here and there, strange bumps in the night.....we credit these intrusions to our numerous cats. There really hasn’t been anything paranormal to the bedstead that we can attribute, and our lives here at Birch Hollow are pretty much the same as before. With all the old stuff we have in our house, there’s just as much likelihood a paranormal quality or quantity has hitched a ride with a book, a dresser, a child’s toy, doll or old trunk. We’ve probably got all kinds of interesting spirit-kind here sharing the lives of two musicians, a teacher and a writer. Nothing scary but then we’ve always felt this way about our contact with the alleged other side.

In the coming weeks I will have some Tom Thomson material to share, with regards to a new book just released on the artist’s mysterious death, while traversing Algonquin’s Canoe Lake, in July 1917. Stay tuned. It’s pretty neat stuff.

NOTE TO READERS

After decades, I mean decades of collecting stuff of all kinds, weights and sizes, and giving every appearance of being in line for a stint on “America’s Legendary Hoarders,” this was the summer season of dispersal. It was the time at Birch Hollow when a proper accounting was necessary. It was the time that we realized there was a house somewhere in the mix of old stuff that simply couldn’t be ignored any longer. By golly, we had some upgrades to do on the old Ponderosa.

It began in June with the removal of an old deck, which I determined had to be dismantled following my unceremonious fall through the rotten boards. Suzanne had been asking me to fix it up for several years, but I always seemed to be able to replace a few boards, and cover over trouble areas, that was.....until there were more patches than original boards. From this debacle, the installation of patio stones, and new concrete step up to the back door, and the creation of five major flower garden plots......to show my shame at not doing the repair work sooner.....the work just seemed to go from “lots to lots more.” All summer long we have been working at reducing the burdens on the homestead, and restoring what keeps us all dry and comfortable. And we have had numerous sales to unload the surplus items that grew into the thousands over the past twenty years.

I’m not a very good handyman but Suzanne is more than competent to make up for my shortfalls. We’ve actually worked as a team to fix up the old digs and I’m happy to say the autumn season looks better than we anticipated a few weeks ago, when askew piles of books and paintings only left us a few feet of pathway from room to room. We actually spent most of our time beneath a camping canopy, and occupying a tent in the backyard when the clean-up got too extreme.

So I had no choice but to abandon writing for a short period, to get this place back in shape. After a day’s work in the wicked humidity, sitting at the computer for even ten minutes was too much on this old body. I hope to get back to the weekly journal entries soon. Thanks for sticking with this blog-site.

DEATH BED ACTIVITY MUTED, WE THINK
In the past several weeks, it’s quite true that we have had many, many misadventures around Birch Hollow, although we can’t attach any direct responsibility to the death bed, we acquired this spring from the family of a former Toronto Minister. You can read more about this by scanning back through the last few entries to this site. My wife Suzanne was not impressed with the purchase but so far her initial fear and trembling, haven’t had much foundation in corresponding events.
We have had strange occurrences, such as a pin prick hole in an upper side connecting pipe, to a hot water heater that very nearly flooded our entire basement. Suzanne asked me bluntly if it was the fact we have the death bed in our house now that may have contributed to the watery event. Of course she was kidding. The bed, we must explain, wasn’t an actual death bed, as such but rather a viewing stage for the newly deceased, at family receptions in honor of their lives.....presumably at the minister’s home. It doesn’t make much difference to Suzanne, who has seen her share of ghosts in the houses in which we have dwelled. It is however, a small, beautiful spindle bed, from the shop of a pioneer craftsman, and too much of a cultural gem to cast out because of its macabre provenance.
In this house it’s not uncommon to have falling over books, slipping-over piles of paper, and askew picture frames hung on the wall. We have a number of cats that look after these misdeeds, most of the time. So we can’t really say, that unless a spirit attached with the bed decided to play a prank with the water tank, the bed has changed much at all around here.....except the interior decor. But we’ll keep you posted.
As a side bar, we have a small but significant collection of art work from a recently deceased artist, and where we have it all stored-away for safe keeping, does suffer quite a bit more activity in the falling-over-books category. Possibly there’s a little paranormal energy manifesting within the trunks, in that part of the room. We’ll add this to the list of updates we need to provide for this blog site.

DEATH BED HASN’T SHAKEN ONCE.....YET
It has been the talk of friends and family. Some can’t believe we would bring something like this into our house. Yet there is a peace associated that set this apart from a truly haunted piece of vintage furniture. The recently acquired, and newly employed spindle bed, probably from the late 1800's (a similar bed is photographed in a booklet on heritage bedsteads in Ontario), was used by a Presbyterian, then United Church Minister, in Toronto, to accommodate "the recently deceased" in their home, for a final viewing for family. It was in a small, side-street bungalow, in recent years, not far off the mainstreet of Gravenhurst, Ontario, here in the District of Muskoka.
It’s not every husband who would have the gall to buy his loving wife a "death bed," as the former owner called it without much affection. She had sort of been stuck with it, as an estate piece from her father, and no overnight visitor to the home would dare sleep upon it. While it is true there was some trepidation about bringing a death bed into our happy and healthy home, we are afterall folks who have respect for those who have crossed, and encounters with the paranormal are eagerly anticipated, not feared.
I wanted to give you an update about the bed and its use up to this point. Admittedly there were a few sleep-broken nights getting adjusted to a stiff, custom made mattress for the short, three-quarters width bedstead.....which is gorgeous whether it is haunted or not. There has been a connection with about 3. a.m., when the occupant is awoken by something or other. We can’t really rest any liability for this on the bed itself, or its former occupants. There has been nary a shake or shudder, levitation or tipping. While it is a tad short for us (it’s true they were shorter on an average back then, than us today) it’s none the less comfortable and has a patina of cultural history we adore.
We love history. We love folk history even better. Ghosts. They were folk, once, so we love them too. We’ll keep you posted on the spiritual potential of an antique bedstead, now serving the slumber interests of the family here at Birch Hollow.

GHOSTS COMING WITH THE DEATH BED?
WE DON’T THINK SO -
As we have been working, for the six weeks, selling off a large quantity of historic books and paper, on behalf of a local estate, we haven’t had too much time for anything else other than business and subsequent "rest from business."
One of the prized acquisitions is what the family called the "Death Bed." It is a fairly modest, late 1800's wooden bed, owned by a Toronto Minister. The bed was used from the period of the First World War up to the 1940's, to rest the deceased at the Minister’s home, for families of lesser means to support a more elaborate viewing and funeral. For decades it was used in this capacity, and while it was a conversation piece, set up in a guest bedroom, in a Muskoka District residence, nobody ever slept on it for obvious reasons. For the most of its structural existence, the prior occupants of the bed, were those lodged in eternal slumber.
Why would someone seek out such an item? Well, I love provenance, and I have great respect for the family we represented, and I suppose to also prove a point, stated on this site many times, that we haven’t met a ghost we didn’t like. If this piece has any patina, other than the aging of the wood, we’re quite prepared to get acquainted. It is well documented in paranormal history, that objects can carry with them the essences of the dearly departed. Cradles that rock themselves, rocking chairs without a mortal companion, organs and pianos that play by themselves, and in the case of Mackenzie House, in Toronto, (former home of the great Scot, William Lyon Mackenzie, a pivotal player in the Rebellion of Upper Canada, 1837), where it has been reported his newspaper press might be heard running in the wee hours unattended.
There is nothing sinister about buying this bed or for that matter, residing upon it for a good night’s sleep, which I intend to pursue. Yet if anything was to be haunted, this might be a good vehicle, as it was at the center of great emotion and sadness for many parlor viewings of the deceased. Admittedly it’s a bed that most would find a macabre reminder of old days and simple ways, when on the other hand, I find it a fascinating piece of Canadian social / cultural heritage. Folks didn’t die in this bed afterall. They were placed upon it, instead of being positioned in a formal casket / coffin. They didn’t depart this mortal coil upon its kind mattress. It undoubtedly looked very peaceful, which I believe is the aura still attached. None the less, it is a kind of experiment, to see if we get an enhanced slumber or just a regular old sleep as we would benefit from any bedstead.
When I told Suzanne I wanted to purchase the bed from the estate, she rolled her eyes, gave me "the look," but that eventually turned to a detectable half-grin, as it was pretty obvious I had been keenly interested after hearing the story. I assured her that I would never utter to friends and family that "My wife was on her death bed last night," or that she has "gone to her death bed," as obviously this would be in poor taste. In our collection we have many strange pieces that she has grown quite accustomed to by immersion. I usually drag the item home and it resides here a week or more before she finds it, and then she can’t resist my begging to keep it! I told her she would get the last laugh on this eccentric collector, when she pens my biography after I’ve also fallen from this coil of life. I can just imagine the adjectives she will use to profile my looney actions and reactions for all these years of married bliss. I plan to attach my spirit to quite a few of my favorite pieces, as you probably can imagine.
I am constantly in quest of significant provenance that has a strong human-contact patina, and I imagine how central this humble, modestly appointed bed was, for those few days, intense moments, for those in mourning. Yet it was very much central to the celebration of life, and kinship known and appreciated. As it was a pedestal that brought an unfortunate reality to its prominence, it was the same platform of a spiritual reckoning, that the afterlife had begun, and peace and calm returned to a travelled soul, as before birth. Some have felt us mad for bringing such a piece into our own happy home, and my response remains, that it wasn’t purchased as a novelty, or as a means of inspiring another chapter in our own ghost associations. It is a piece of Canadian history regardless, and it deserves respect for the services it has rendered, to benefit many families by its comfortable embrace of loved ones.
I will duly advise if anything particular or peculiar develops from our new Birch Hollow bedstead. And should it prove a haunted piece, we trust it will be an enhancement like all the others, and be friendly toward us, as we will be respectful of its unique heritage.

WHEN BUSINESS CALLS - EVEN WHEN THE THOREAUESQUE BECKONS....

I must offer an apology for my lethargy as of late. It has been very much the case that business has come before pleasure. And while it is true that I garner great joy working in the antique profession, nothing can trump my forays in writing at Birch Hollow. But as the accountant in this household is currently of the opinion we should balance the books, it was necessary for awhile to put other, more enjoyable pursuits aside.
We have had the privilege of selling off a considerable quantity of interesting Canadiana, antiquarian books, old paper and some wonderful advertising nostalgia. Now we are close to completion and we can honestly say that the past six weeks have been exciting and well worth experiencing. There just hasn’t been much time for anything else, and seeing as I have for long and long subscribed to the philosophy of dear old Mr. Fezziwig’s (Dickens, A Christmas Carol) belief, that "money isn’t everything," I do intend to happily return to my cherished blog sites, of which there are numerous, and pen copiously once again. As a poor writer I shall continue following this life-long path.
Today the forest canopy is filling in, and the lilac buds are growing ever more significant, ready soon to burst into bloom. The ferns are poking their heads up through the soil and our patch of trilliums has almost doubled from years past. There are a few blackflies but not so bad.
Once again, my apologies for this rather unanticipated but profitable hiatus.