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The Newsletter >
The Ghost Gets Mail
September 15, 2009
“I have a package for **Jack Silas,” the man, in the snappy delivery uniform, informed me.
“He’s dead,” I said.
“Sorry, I’ll notify,” he hesitated, checking the return address on the package, “hmmm, someone . . . and, I am sorry.”
The man in the snappy delivery uniform waved the package over his head with that slightly uncomfortable shuffling of the feet that indicates that the conversation might be in danger of drifting toward one or two potentially toxic subjects such as—death—or, the trade war with China caused by over protectionism and un-do union influence on our elected officials. I reassured him.
“Oh no, don’t worry. Jack’s been dead forever. He’s a ghost now. Sometimes people see him when they wake up from a nap on the couch.” I smiled, pointing to the actual haunted couch.
The man in the snappy delivery uniform started backing away from me still waving the package, only now he was waving it in front of him. He stumbled over a trailing stem of pink vinca as he continued to make his get-away through my flowerbed.
Sightings of our ghost, Jack Silas, have included one incident on the wooden bridge that covers our well, one example of shimmery air hovering over the couch post bedtime, a feeling of extreme unease resulting in one family member (who will remain nameless) arming himself with a hammer and wandering around the house all night, and an actual visual sighting in the laundry room, on laundry day, near the dryer—by me. Jack was wearing a striped shirt, no pants.
It’s not that Jack wasn’t wearing pants. He might have been. It’s that he was see-through on the bottom—just to clarify.
Having a ghost is better than having a dog for the assigning of blame when playing the family blame game. Stuff gets lost. It’s the ghost. Unexplained messes, smudges, dirt, or fart smells, it’s the ghost. Weirdly broken tchotchkes that the three-year old, Conner-boy, may or may not have been playing with—then that darn ghost has been at it again. Unknown noises, screams, wails, shrieks, and coughing—inside the walls—well, then obviously the ghost is kicking up his heels, or you might have squirrels.
A ghost can be very handy. I recommend having a ghost—except when they start receiving mail—then the situation just gets so complicated. I mean how do you handle the forwarding issue?
I have been openly mocked for reporting my personal sighting of Jack Silas, the ghost, but I shall not recant. I did, in fact, see a misty figure of ghostly proportions on laundry day, his appearance so real that I thought someone had walked into the laundry room, and so real in fact, that I turned to speak to that person. I gasped and started to cry when I noticed that the “person” was wearing a striped t-shirt and no pants. The kid who carried the hammer around all night, heard me gasp, clear across the house, and he makes the most fun of me, which is rich when you consider the hammer stunt. I can’t help it if I see dead people; for some of us the veil is very thin, and the next world is just a forwarding address away.
Linda (Ghost Whisperer) Zern
** The name has been changed to protect the ghost!
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