Bringing Up Daddy
He sleeps.
It is midnight and for the first time today the house is quiet except for the sound of the TV down the hall blasting big band standards and the oxygen compressor thumping.
As usual the day has been spent on the road. My father doesn’t like to stay home and we find ourselves literally living in our converted disabled designed Dodge Caravan. Today was like any other day for us. We feel and look tired because he hardly sleeps and spends the night waking us up several times with the excuse that he is checking on our well being. He then is up and ready to go by 7 a.m. My mother and I have made it a fine art to sleep when and where we can. You name it. We sleep in the van when he is shopping, we sleep at the hospital as we wait for appointments. Anywhere we can catch some sleep is a plus.
On this day, my father wants to go check out a mobility store and as I begin to make up a bowl of cereal, he starts fidgeting and starts commenting that my breakfast is taking up precious time. This is nothing new as on countless days my mother and I find ourselves rushing out of the door with no food or not having the ability to brush hair and teeth. Should we hesitate for one moment, he will fly into a rage or have a tantrum and he doesn’t care if it is in front of the neighbors.
Today, however, I continued with my breakfast as he went back to his room calling me several colorful names. I ate and went into my office to prepare for the day’s ride and when I returned to the living room, my mother was fast asleep. I went to his room and saw that he was sleeping as well, so I decided to let them both sleep. Heck for the next hour, I fell asleep too. When he did awake, he made it a point to yell at both of us and as we prepared to leave, he headed outside to wait.
Another standing rule we have is to never use the bathroom unless he is sleeping. My mother unfortunately had go so as he waited outside and he came back in saying he was going back to his room because he figured we weren’t going anywhere.
And so began our day, a quick check of his oxygen tank showed it was full so I backed the van out of the driveway to deploy the ramp so he can get in. We then headed to our destination but he could not remember exactly where the street was.
The insults began.
“You dumbass. I’m not the one who grew up here. You are really a dumb Mexican. I hope you eat yourself to death.” Those were directed at me.
My mother intervened to defend me and she too was called dumb and had other assorted insults fired at her like. “I thought it was just an act when you were younger but you truly are stupid.” and so it when on until we found the store and he went in and came back out upset because it wasn’t what he expected. We then headed home, had lunch but he chose to nap. An hour later we were on the road again and took him to his afternoon doctor appointment. For some reason he chose to be quiet on this trip-a rarity in our family.
Once at the doctor’s, he went in with my mother. The appointment lasted for about an hour and in that time, I work on my writing assignments for one of the various newspapers I freelance for. When they came out, my mother said he told the doctor that we don’t feed him. The doctor however, takes his comments in stride as he understands my father and his personality.
Once we get home, we all settle down but my father comes shouting down the hall that he wants food although dinner is on the stove cooking, he wants food instantly.
I Am Ghost Hunter
I once had a friend tell me that she had heard from a co-worker that the interviewer who hired her almost didn’t. The reason for the apprehension was because of my friend’s strong belief in the afterlife and her work as a psychic. It makes one wonder what the potential employer was thinking. Yes. There are those so called psychics out there who take advantage of desperate widows and family members following the death of a loved one but there are also psychics who truly help people. Not all are "out there" as TV has a tendency to depict them. Many are honest and hardworking like my friend.
If you look back through history, psychics have always played a role in humanity dating back to the Seers of Greek and Roman times. They go by many titles in many cultures. Some are healers, mediums, spiritualists and necromancers.
Also over the years, some have fallen prey to those who do not understand their abilities or those who simply refuse to understand due to religious or scientific beliefs. The Salem Witch Trials for example, occurred during a time of strong belief that because some of the women involved had special talents, they did not match with religious beliefs of the time, therefore, they were deemed witches and persecuted.
It is sad to think that these bias's still exist in today's society but they do. Do I not like people because they believe differently than I do? No. I am a journalist and my training allows me to stay neutral. It is human nature to view something we do not understand as being strange or unbelievable but it is also part of human nature to be curious and try to make sense of what we don't understand. That is what we are all about.
My entry into ghost hunting stemmed from experiences that I had as a child growing up in my home. Back then, at the age of 12, I didn't understand that most of reported sightings could be explained logically. All I knew was as I sat sipping a bowl of soup, something that looked like a human-sized white light crossed from one corner of the room to the other.
Was I afraid? Yes. I remember making it a point to avoid that area of the house for many months. Sometime later, I was eating at the same table and saw the same light cross only this time it went the opposite direction. From then on, it seemed like my house was overrun with strange noises. In one instance, I was sitting late at night in the living room and could hear a bar stool creek as if someone was sitting on it and turn it. I also recall the TV turning on and off a couple of times.
I wasn't the only one to experience strange things. One night as my baby niece lay on the couch in the living room and I was lying in bed, I recall my mother hollering at me to not bother the baby. when I told her the next day that i had been in bed, she said that she had seen someone in white coming down the hallway.
After growing up and becoming a journalist, I took a hard look at what I thought I had experienced in my house. I found myself walking around and looking at the spots where I had seen the white figure move. I began rationalizing what may have happened. It could very well have been a car's headlights coming through the kitchen window at just the right angle. Maybe one of our dogs got under the stool and caused it to turn. The TV could also easily be explained by weak batteries in the remote. As for my mother's experience, I wasn't there to witness it so I can offer no explanation.
Before I knew it, my curiosity got the best of me and I began studying books about paranormal activity. I knew I needed answers and I knew the only way to get those answers was to research.
When I started my journalism career in college I admit that I was one of those biased folks already mentioned in Chapter One. during my tenure as editor-in-chief for the college paper, I got the chance to create a Halloween edition and thought it would be fun to feature haunted locations, ghosts, and those who hunt them. I assigned various stories and also got the chance to do some reporting on a local psychic led cemetery tour and interview a gentleman/author who had appeared on several national TV shows.
Dennis W. Hauck is the author of "Haunted Places,""The Emerald Tablet: Alchemy for Personal Transformation," and "Sorcerer's Stone: A Beginner's Guide to Alchemy." Hauck had investigated the Queen Mary, and several Sacramento hotspots. We met at his home and spent about three hours talking about investigations, UFO's and alien abductions. I even volunteered an experience I had had the Queen Mary while taking a walking tour of the ship. I had been in one of the hallways and began to feel very ill. Hauck told me that was an area where a lot of women feel strange. He said it was the spirit of a little girl who likes to attach to women. (I thought it was the fish I had eaten earlier in the day.)
That evening I attended the cemetery tour and, again the sarcasm creeped in. Hauck had told me during the afternoon interview that more than 100 people had been abducted by aliens in the Sacramento area. When the photographer and I arrived, we did not know what to expect of the crowd in attendance. When we signed our names to the tour roster, we laughed because the exact number of people had signed up that Hauck had said were abducted by aliens.
Now, imagine if you will. It is October and cold. More than 100 people are walking through a dark cemetery stopping every so often to hear a psychic tell them that there is a spirit standing near a tombstone or there is a spirit dancing in a blue gown. Add to that, many walked around with hands outstretched in a effort to feel cold spots that the psychic said were spirits. Don't get me wrong. The tour was fascinating, educational and entertaining but I still had reservations about the validity of what was being presented. My curiosity grew even more intense after speaking with the pcychic and asking her about the spirit world in general to which she replied that ghosts are constantly around us. Where? And with a swipe of her hand she said, "Woo. There's one right here."
So with notes in hand, I returned home to write an entertaining article that although had a sceptical edge, it still left open questions that could not be explained. I wanted to know more and that tour proved to be a turning point in my research. I found myself regularly attending the weekly event and also began the first steps to becoming a paranormal investigator.
Psychic Nancy Matz who led the tour, would later play a pivotal role in my development as an investigator but for the time being, I was content with following her through the cemetery with my trusty SLR camera where one night, I caught something on film that to this day, I can not explain. I was standing a row or two back in the crowd as Nancy stopped by one grave in particular. She explained that a woman frequently visited the grave and sat at the edge of the tombstone. I began shooting pictures using infrared film. After I developed the film, I noticed what appeared to be a shimmering person sitting on the left side of the tombstone. You can see Nancy at the right, animated as always, talking about the woman sitting on the stone. You can also make out what appears to be a hat and some type of necklace. Could it have been a light reflection from the flash? The cemetery is a victorian-style cemetery meaning there are a lot of trees and flowers throughout it. Yes, there are some lights but those were at least a block away and were divided from the grounds by a fence. Was there someone standing there? No. Again, before I took the shot, I took the filter off to focus. So what did the camera pick up? I will probably never know for sure. Was it a coincidence that the camera got what it did when Nancy was there? Maybe.
As a photography student, I was well aware of the care that was necessary to use this type of film. For starters, you load it into the camera in a pitch black room to avoid risking any type of exposure. You then had to place a very dark red filter over the lens and use a flash. Easy? Maybe, but the kicker was that the filter made it hard to focus, especially in the dark so I would remove the filter, focus, replace it and then take the picture.
As a result of that cemetery picture, My curiosity was killing me, I continued with my college studies and became a full-fledged journalist after being hired at an area paper. Being busy with life in general, I put my paranormal studies on hold although I did continue watching various TV programs that featured the subject. I immersed myself in my job of learning the ropes and styles of the newspaper I was working for and for the first time, found myself , like many college graduates, with money to spend. So I started enjoying my time with friends and family. In October of that same year, I was assigned a story about Roseville haunted areas for Halloween. Utilizing Dennis Hauck’s Website, I found that the Antelope area had occurrences in homes related to what was once a Japanese Internment Camp processing center. Intrigued, I remembered a story I had written in college about a survivor of one of the camps so with that knowledge, I began my research.
On May 6, 1942, the first inmate arrived at the camp which was located near Interstate 80 and Madison Avenue in Sacramento. At it’s peak, the population at the camp was 4,739. The last inmate left on June 26, 1942. What stands out about the stories is that the ghosts have appeared in many houses and garages. These spirits are all Japanese. According to Psychic Robyn Street, who was the psychic of record on the cases, many residents saw the ghosts walking in the streets and in some cases doorbells were being rung and when the resident would answer, there would be no one there. She also told me that one particular case featured an old man who would appear out of a closet in one home.
According to the Haunted Places Website, "Forlorn Asian ghosts have appeared in the bedrooms, living rooms, garages, and front yards of homes in the area." Why? In my research, I discovered by talking with Street and Hauck that some who die with unfinished business may stay around. I also learned that some some who die under tragic circumstances may also stay. Some just stay for the fun of it. Nevertheless, as I gained more information, I found myself drawn even closer to the paranormal world as I wanted more information and answers to what many claimed to experience.
Unfortunately, I began to shift my focus to my career as a writer and put my fascinations on-hold. I was kept busy at work editing three newspapers and laying them out as well. I was working an eight to five and many Saturday's and in the off time i did have, I traveled. I did have one experience during the time period of note. Sometime during the year of 1985, I received a Sony Mavica digital camera as a gift. For those who don't know what the camera's were, they were four megapixle and each photo taken was immediately transffered to a floppy disk within the camera. I was excited because these were the cameras being used by ghost hunters on TV. They were notorious for picking up orbs or what a lot of people seem to think are spirits.
Naturally, having the camera, I couldn't resist taking a ride with my friend to the town of Coloma where gold was first discovered in California. There is a house which is reportedly haunted which incidentally is right across the street from a cemetery. Legend has it that a ghostly woman has been seen crossing the street from the graveyard towards the house. As I drove to the location itwas growing dark, I was eager to try the camera out but as I got closer to the cemetery, I suddenly felt uneasy. Inside my head, I heard a voice tell me to turn around and suddenly I was scared. I don't know where the feeling came from but I do remember gripping the steering wheel hard and driving right past the cemetery to my friends dismay. When I was able to turn around I did and headed right past the cemetery to the main road. My friend at one point had looked out the window and said she saw a white fog along the side of the road right in front of the cemetery. I didn't care at that point, I just wanted to get out of there. when I arrived back at home, I went into the backyard and it took about 30 minutes to calm down.
Looking back on the experience and having spent more than two years working in that area as a journalist, I know that at times there can be ground fog that can be stationary to a certain spot. The spot doesn't necessarily have to be on the road. I have seen it along side the road just sitting in a small area. Is that what my friend saw that night? What about the fear I felt? Could that have been caused by the expectation of visiting an old cemetery at night? And the voice. You could call it the voice of logic. After all, I was on a twisty road. in the dark and fog was starting up in the area. Maybe it was just common sense. Regardless, I did not get to try my new camera that night but what I experienced would come back to haunt me in a way I never thought possible. Little did I know it at the time but I was about to take a job in a city that would set me directly on my path to becoming a full-fledged ghost hunter.
If you look back through history, psychics have always played a role in humanity dating back to the Seers of Greek and Roman times. They go by many titles in many cultures. Some are healers, mediums, spiritualists and necromancers.
Also over the years, some have fallen prey to those who do not understand their abilities or those who simply refuse to understand due to religious or scientific beliefs. The Salem Witch Trials for example, occurred during a time of strong belief that because some of the women involved had special talents, they did not match with religious beliefs of the time, therefore, they were deemed witches and persecuted.
It is sad to think that these bias's still exist in today's society but they do. Do I not like people because they believe differently than I do? No. I am a journalist and my training allows me to stay neutral. It is human nature to view something we do not understand as being strange or unbelievable but it is also part of human nature to be curious and try to make sense of what we don't understand. That is what we are all about.
My entry into ghost hunting stemmed from experiences that I had as a child growing up in my home. Back then, at the age of 12, I didn't understand that most of reported sightings could be explained logically. All I knew was as I sat sipping a bowl of soup, something that looked like a human-sized white light crossed from one corner of the room to the other.
Was I afraid? Yes. I remember making it a point to avoid that area of the house for many months. Sometime later, I was eating at the same table and saw the same light cross only this time it went the opposite direction. From then on, it seemed like my house was overrun with strange noises. In one instance, I was sitting late at night in the living room and could hear a bar stool creek as if someone was sitting on it and turn it. I also recall the TV turning on and off a couple of times.
I wasn't the only one to experience strange things. One night as my baby niece lay on the couch in the living room and I was lying in bed, I recall my mother hollering at me to not bother the baby. when I told her the next day that i had been in bed, she said that she had seen someone in white coming down the hallway.
After growing up and becoming a journalist, I took a hard look at what I thought I had experienced in my house. I found myself walking around and looking at the spots where I had seen the white figure move. I began rationalizing what may have happened. It could very well have been a car's headlights coming through the kitchen window at just the right angle. Maybe one of our dogs got under the stool and caused it to turn. The TV could also easily be explained by weak batteries in the remote. As for my mother's experience, I wasn't there to witness it so I can offer no explanation.
Before I knew it, my curiosity got the best of me and I began studying books about paranormal activity. I knew I needed answers and I knew the only way to get those answers was to research.
When I started my journalism career in college I admit that I was one of those biased folks already mentioned in Chapter One. during my tenure as editor-in-chief for the college paper, I got the chance to create a Halloween edition and thought it would be fun to feature haunted locations, ghosts, and those who hunt them. I assigned various stories and also got the chance to do some reporting on a local psychic led cemetery tour and interview a gentleman/author who had appeared on several national TV shows.
Dennis W. Hauck is the author of "Haunted Places,""The Emerald Tablet: Alchemy for Personal Transformation," and "Sorcerer's Stone: A Beginner's Guide to Alchemy." Hauck had investigated the Queen Mary, and several Sacramento hotspots. We met at his home and spent about three hours talking about investigations, UFO's and alien abductions. I even volunteered an experience I had had the Queen Mary while taking a walking tour of the ship. I had been in one of the hallways and began to feel very ill. Hauck told me that was an area where a lot of women feel strange. He said it was the spirit of a little girl who likes to attach to women. (I thought it was the fish I had eaten earlier in the day.)
That evening I attended the cemetery tour and, again the sarcasm creeped in. Hauck had told me during the afternoon interview that more than 100 people had been abducted by aliens in the Sacramento area. When the photographer and I arrived, we did not know what to expect of the crowd in attendance. When we signed our names to the tour roster, we laughed because the exact number of people had signed up that Hauck had said were abducted by aliens.
Now, imagine if you will. It is October and cold. More than 100 people are walking through a dark cemetery stopping every so often to hear a psychic tell them that there is a spirit standing near a tombstone or there is a spirit dancing in a blue gown. Add to that, many walked around with hands outstretched in a effort to feel cold spots that the psychic said were spirits. Don't get me wrong. The tour was fascinating, educational and entertaining but I still had reservations about the validity of what was being presented. My curiosity grew even more intense after speaking with the pcychic and asking her about the spirit world in general to which she replied that ghosts are constantly around us. Where? And with a swipe of her hand she said, "Woo. There's one right here."
So with notes in hand, I returned home to write an entertaining article that although had a sceptical edge, it still left open questions that could not be explained. I wanted to know more and that tour proved to be a turning point in my research. I found myself regularly attending the weekly event and also began the first steps to becoming a paranormal investigator.
Psychic Nancy Matz who led the tour, would later play a pivotal role in my development as an investigator but for the time being, I was content with following her through the cemetery with my trusty SLR camera where one night, I caught something on film that to this day, I can not explain. I was standing a row or two back in the crowd as Nancy stopped by one grave in particular. She explained that a woman frequently visited the grave and sat at the edge of the tombstone. I began shooting pictures using infrared film. After I developed the film, I noticed what appeared to be a shimmering person sitting on the left side of the tombstone. You can see Nancy at the right, animated as always, talking about the woman sitting on the stone. You can also make out what appears to be a hat and some type of necklace. Could it have been a light reflection from the flash? The cemetery is a victorian-style cemetery meaning there are a lot of trees and flowers throughout it. Yes, there are some lights but those were at least a block away and were divided from the grounds by a fence. Was there someone standing there? No. Again, before I took the shot, I took the filter off to focus. So what did the camera pick up? I will probably never know for sure. Was it a coincidence that the camera got what it did when Nancy was there? Maybe.
As a photography student, I was well aware of the care that was necessary to use this type of film. For starters, you load it into the camera in a pitch black room to avoid risking any type of exposure. You then had to place a very dark red filter over the lens and use a flash. Easy? Maybe, but the kicker was that the filter made it hard to focus, especially in the dark so I would remove the filter, focus, replace it and then take the picture.
As a result of that cemetery picture, My curiosity was killing me, I continued with my college studies and became a full-fledged journalist after being hired at an area paper. Being busy with life in general, I put my paranormal studies on hold although I did continue watching various TV programs that featured the subject. I immersed myself in my job of learning the ropes and styles of the newspaper I was working for and for the first time, found myself , like many college graduates, with money to spend. So I started enjoying my time with friends and family. In October of that same year, I was assigned a story about Roseville haunted areas for Halloween. Utilizing Dennis Hauck’s Website, I found that the Antelope area had occurrences in homes related to what was once a Japanese Internment Camp processing center. Intrigued, I remembered a story I had written in college about a survivor of one of the camps so with that knowledge, I began my research.
On May 6, 1942, the first inmate arrived at the camp which was located near Interstate 80 and Madison Avenue in Sacramento. At it’s peak, the population at the camp was 4,739. The last inmate left on June 26, 1942. What stands out about the stories is that the ghosts have appeared in many houses and garages. These spirits are all Japanese. According to Psychic Robyn Street, who was the psychic of record on the cases, many residents saw the ghosts walking in the streets and in some cases doorbells were being rung and when the resident would answer, there would be no one there. She also told me that one particular case featured an old man who would appear out of a closet in one home.
According to the Haunted Places Website, "Forlorn Asian ghosts have appeared in the bedrooms, living rooms, garages, and front yards of homes in the area." Why? In my research, I discovered by talking with Street and Hauck that some who die with unfinished business may stay around. I also learned that some some who die under tragic circumstances may also stay. Some just stay for the fun of it. Nevertheless, as I gained more information, I found myself drawn even closer to the paranormal world as I wanted more information and answers to what many claimed to experience.
Unfortunately, I began to shift my focus to my career as a writer and put my fascinations on-hold. I was kept busy at work editing three newspapers and laying them out as well. I was working an eight to five and many Saturday's and in the off time i did have, I traveled. I did have one experience during the time period of note. Sometime during the year of 1985, I received a Sony Mavica digital camera as a gift. For those who don't know what the camera's were, they were four megapixle and each photo taken was immediately transffered to a floppy disk within the camera. I was excited because these were the cameras being used by ghost hunters on TV. They were notorious for picking up orbs or what a lot of people seem to think are spirits.
Naturally, having the camera, I couldn't resist taking a ride with my friend to the town of Coloma where gold was first discovered in California. There is a house which is reportedly haunted which incidentally is right across the street from a cemetery. Legend has it that a ghostly woman has been seen crossing the street from the graveyard towards the house. As I drove to the location itwas growing dark, I was eager to try the camera out but as I got closer to the cemetery, I suddenly felt uneasy. Inside my head, I heard a voice tell me to turn around and suddenly I was scared. I don't know where the feeling came from but I do remember gripping the steering wheel hard and driving right past the cemetery to my friends dismay. When I was able to turn around I did and headed right past the cemetery to the main road. My friend at one point had looked out the window and said she saw a white fog along the side of the road right in front of the cemetery. I didn't care at that point, I just wanted to get out of there. when I arrived back at home, I went into the backyard and it took about 30 minutes to calm down.
Looking back on the experience and having spent more than two years working in that area as a journalist, I know that at times there can be ground fog that can be stationary to a certain spot. The spot doesn't necessarily have to be on the road. I have seen it along side the road just sitting in a small area. Is that what my friend saw that night? What about the fear I felt? Could that have been caused by the expectation of visiting an old cemetery at night? And the voice. You could call it the voice of logic. After all, I was on a twisty road. in the dark and fog was starting up in the area. Maybe it was just common sense. Regardless, I did not get to try my new camera that night but what I experienced would come back to haunt me in a way I never thought possible. Little did I know it at the time but I was about to take a job in a city that would set me directly on my path to becoming a full-fledged ghost hunter.