Ghosts of Evenings Past

When my daughter is away at school, she has us record episodes of a TV show called Ghost Adventures, a Travel Channel spectacle that has sane adults everywhere speaking of Mel-meters and EVPs (electronic voice phenomenon).    These are no comic book Ghost-Busters; rather, these intrepid explorers set out with recording equipment, video cameras, and a lot of hair gel to prove the existence of paranormal activity.  They voluntarily submit to all night lock-downs in some of the most purportedly haunted locations across the world.  

My husband and I complied without judgment, setting the DVR to record all episodes.  Then one evening, for no particular reason, we decided to tune in for ourselves.  By the third episode, we were hooked.  No one is more surprised than we are.  After all, we are reasonably rational and intelligent human beings, trained in a variety of the hard sciences.  Nonetheless, we hung on every scene, waiting for the sensors to reveal the presence of energy and for the infrared X-cameras to capture a moving orb.  We were thrilled when the EVP detectors captured what seemed to be intelligent responses to pointed questions.  

If asked whether I believe in ghosts, I supposed I would not know how to answer.  I have never seen a clearly identifiable apparition with my own eyes.  On the other hand, there have been many times in my life when events seem to have been guided by an intelligent hand.  I have found strength to say and do things that were against my nature, often with beneficial results.  I also feel the presence of my departed father and grandmother at poignant moments.  I am drawn to their possessions, often sensing a whiff of cologne when I open my father’s violin or a strong sense of well-being when I put on a piece of my grandmother’s jewelry.

Even as I describe these thoughts and sensations I am aware of how preposterous this may sound.  But I have always been careful not to disparage something simply because I do not understand it.  There are plenty of people who have seen and experienced things that cannot be explained simply.  I am open to the possibility that something may be beyond my perception or comprehension.  I am eager to be persuaded.  Until such time as facts can be proven or disproven, I act with respect toward entities that may be in my presence.

Ghost tours are entertaining excursions in many cities.  We have taken such tours in Edinburgh and Ft. Niagara.  In both places, eyewitnesses were said to have experienced multiple similar paranormal encounters.  We are left untouched.  Last week, we took a ghost tour in downtown Boston with a couple of paranormal investigators.  Rather than a touristy outing, this took a more investigational tone, ultimately leading us to a “hot zone” in the Boston common.  Here, the guides placed two flashlights on the ground—one white and one red.  As a group, we formed a circle and were directed to ask questions, suggesting to the “spirits” that they turn the different colored lights on or off in response.   Members of the group were a bit wary, so I began asking questions.  Surprisingly, the lights behaved in a seemingly intelligent fashion, responding to specific inquiries with the appropriate blinking of either red or white lights.  If the results are to be believed, we were in the presence of a 20^th Century-born woman and at least one other older man.

I do not put a lot of weight in such experiences, allowing just enough willing suspension of disbelief to enjoy a rare evening out with my husband and kids.  While I cannot offer an alternative explanation for what we experienced, I am willing to except it all at face value without condemning it outright.  If it is possible that spirits can visit loved ones after their natural lives are over, why not embrace this idea?  Who among us does not wish to feel the lingering support of a departed love one?  I, for one, need all the help I can get.