My Photographic Obsession With Tioga...Thank You All For Indulging Me Yet Again.

Okay, folks. I'm a woman of my word. Mostly. So, as promised, here are some photos, old and new, of Tioga.

I stumbled across this photo while pilfering my grandma's stash. Photo stash, that is. The back of the photo simply says " Tioga Depot 1920." Would be interesting to know who these people were. I like their dog. I imagine his name was Frank. Seems like a solid doggy name. He's looking like, "Eh, what you want from me?"

My favorite part of this photograph, though, is the cameraman's shadow...

The date on the next picture says 1966. I suspect this is either when my grandma bought Tioga or shortly thereafter. I could easily call somebody in my family and get an answer within minutes. But I'll be honest. I'm lazy. And I could have cleaned up this photo and made it look untorn and pretty. But again, I'm lazy.

And here is the store, abandoned and unloved. Little did it know the years of activity and memories that waited for it at the hands of its new coffee-addicted chain-smoking mayor.

And here is the old depot. This photo must have been late 70's, if I had to guess by the other photographs I found with it. It's weird to see barren land, ruts in the mud, the photo taken long before my grandma's grassy lawn reached the depot.

This last pic is of the depot, the creepy shed I talked about in my previous blog post, and the little playhouse. And, too small to really see, my grandma and one of the many, many dogs she's had over the years. Actually, they usually belong to the trucker across the road, but any dog that guy owns usually half becomes my grandma's, because she feeds them...a lot.

Speaking of the creepy shed, I'll use that as a segue into my photos from the ghost hunt. Keep in most, most of these are nothing more than my photographic fascination with Tioga.

While searching the depot for something paranormal, I discovered this name painted on the wall. Surprisingly, I don't remember ever seeing this before. Did an internet search (love Google!) and learned that Rae D. Ingham ran Tioga in the early 1920's. He was post master, store owner, and clerk of the depot's ticket counter. A jack of all trades. And his painted signature has lasted almost 100 years. Amazing.

I'd never noticed this before, but beneath the ticket counter are faint pencil marks. I could make out "Fairchild," which is a nearby town. Fairchild was actually where Nathanial Foster, founder of Tioga, made his home and raised his family. I believe he his buried in a Fairchild cemetery, as well.

I'd love to say the orange flare is paranormal, but I'm pretty sure it's just flash flare.

And back to Tioga. Here is the store as it stands today. It's a little old and saggy. But still lovable. 

A picture from the side window of one of the front bedrooms. During the ghost hunt, it was unanimous that everybody felt the most welcome in this bedroom. There's just this warm, homey vibe that beckons to the soul. We mentioned this to my mom who said this room was always my grandma's favorite room in the store. Coincidence?

This is one of the back bedrooms. It's long and narrow and doesn't have the same vibe as the front bedroom in the picture above. But still, like all of Tioga, special in its own way...

I'm not only in love with this building, but the all of the things my grandma has stashed in it. New and old, it doesn't matter. It just adds to the charm of the place, endearing me to it further.

 

 

 This, however, creeps this shit out of me. 

PBR me ASAP. It helps curb the fear of the creepy doll.

Peeling paint from the ceiling of the porch. Just looked cool to me.

Real ghost hunting equipment.

Gah! A ghost! Oh, wait, that's just my mom.

 

And here is one of my favorite pictures. Tioga in twilight. At a glance, the photo looks like a reject, something taken by accident or before the flash could recharge. But no, it was all intentional. This photo embodies everything I love about Tioga. It's darkened core, nothing scary about this darkness. Filled with mystery, intrigue, and a gentle calm.  

Thank you, readers, for indulging my obsession of Tioga. I hope you have enjoyed it. And if not, well, then, eff you.

Friendly reminder, these photos are all property of Brenda Boo. I do not mind my work being shared on the internet, but if you're using them for profit, then you are very undude. Be respectful. Get my permission.

The Tioga Ghost Hunt...And Why I Carry Extra Panties In My Purse.

Finally! I have the time and mental capacity to share with all my lovely readers (yes, all three of you) my first ghost hunting experience. I know it’s been several weeks since I went on the hunt, but time has been short. I’d say I want more hours in a day, but it just means more hours of demands and obligations vying for my time. But if I could get more hours in a day with a guarantee that those extra hours would only be available for reading or blogging, then consider me in.

Kind of off topic, but not really – considering the band name – you all (yes, again, all three of you) should stop and take a listen to a new band my husband discovered. They are called Ghost and I pee a little every time I take a listen to their album, Opus Eponymous. Which is usually more than once a day, so I now carry an extra pair of panties in my purse.

Is that kind hot? Or just incredibly disturbing? I’ll let you be the judge.

Anyway, you can find Ghost on twitter: @thebandGHOST. Check it.

So, we step away from the band Ghost and move into the hunting of ghosts. I had no idea what to expect in this new venture, especially since I have never felt any true ghostly presence at Tioga. Just the usual ambiance that comes with being in a building rich with history. Would I hear voices? See some apparitions? As much as I knew I wanted to hear and see these things, I kept my expectations at a minimum, not wanting to taint the investigation with an overly eager approach.

I’ve spent a lot of time talking about Tioga the ghost-town. For a little background, check out my entry entitled And So I Give You…Tioga. I mainly talk about the old depot and the store, but there is also a storage shed that is on the property. The shed used to sit behind the store, but my grandma had it moved several years ago to sit closer to the old depot.

The majority of the ghost hunting team’s time was spent in the store, but we did spend a little time in the depot. I also brought a few team members back to the old shed. As kids my cousin and I ventured into the shed, but it only had one window and was surrounded by high weeds that were taller than us, which made the shed a very dark place, even in the daytime. Prime territory for spiders and bugs, things of which little Boo is not a fan. The second level, accessible by narrow, wooden steps, is creepier than the first, though I remember it being cleaner than the lower level. My cousin and I spent some time up there once. We mutually agreed to never go back.

During the ghost hunt, we walked into the shed and I told the team members I never played in here. It always gave me a creepy vibe. When a member of the team climbed the narrow stairs to the upper level he said, “I just got the chills.” Said there was a creepy vibe, “a strong feeling of dread.”

When we told my mom about this experience she said, “Oh, that shed is super creepy. I always expect to see some guy hanging from a noose in there.”

Yeah. That would qualify as creepy. But even with its creepy vibe, the shed didn’t give us any tortured moans or unexplained shadows. Is it bad, though, that I kind of wanted to see the ghostly remains of some hanging dead guy? Really, I’m just being honest.

I made a few observations while ghost hunting. Some related to the actual activity of ghost hunting, some not. Firstly, I learned that watching the ghost hunters on television asking potential paranormal entities questions is really cool, but when it’s me doing it, it just feels really stupid. Even so, I ventured to ask the ghosts of Tioga a few questions. Did they remember me playing there as a child? Did they like when I played there? Did they know my name?  How is Elvis and have they seen him lately?

Okay, I didn’t really ask that question.

Alright, I lied. I really did ask that question. Just when nobody was around to hear it. Unfortunately, though, no response.

Secondly, I learned that ghost hunting involves a lot of sitting around and waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more, surrounded by nothing but silence, only to realize that there really is no such thing as silence. If it’s not the unavoidable rustle of clothing or the white noise of insectile buzzing, it’s the sound of your own beating heart. A sound that no matter what you do, will never stop. Always there. And the harder you try to ignore it, the louder it becomes. A persistent drumbeat, the soundtrack of your life on an endless loop, and it’d be annoying if you didn’t need it so badly. After all, you want to avoid becoming one of the things with what you’re trying to initiate contact.

Lastly, I learned that my mom actually has a few pleasant memories from her childhood. Well, if not completely pleasant, at least not completely soured. My mom doesn’t talk about her childhood much. And when she does, any memory or story is bookended with sad reminders that she never really had a childhood. I feel for anybody that doesn’t get a childhood. Even more so when it’s my own mom. But to hear her share the more ordinary memories, memories that could come from anybody’s childhood, puts a warmth in my heart. Memories as mundane as little Mom and her three siblings sitting on the bed eating macaroni and cheese together are enough to put a smile on my face.

At the end of the night, when all the equipment was packed away and I was back in my grandma’s house, crawling into my bed, beneath a comforter that has the sweet, unmistakable smell of Tioga, I realized I may not have heard the ghosts of Tioga whisper my name, or may not have seen its otherworldly residents, or felt the ethereal chill of their presence, but I didn’t leave Tioga empty handed. Clutched in one was the new experience of ghost hunting, to engage in something that most only talk about, but never actually do. Clutched in the other, comforting warmth. A feeling of closeness to my mom and her family. My family. People in this world I love dearly, for better or worse, flaws and all.

Epilogue

This past weekend my mom met with the ghost hunting team to listen to the digital recordings. Apparently there were several! I haven’t heard them for myself yet, so I don’t want to expand on that. But it seems safe to say Tioga has more going on the meets the eye.

There are tentative plans to head back in September for another ghost hunting session. I can’t wait! And I’ll be sure to share that experience with you all (yes, of course all three of you!).

A couple of weeks ago I pilfered my grandma’s photo album collection. They are rich with wonderful photographs of my family and of Tioga. Tioga from back in the 1960’s when it first purchased. I even stumbled across some photo of the depot in 1920, complete with a few passengers on the platform waiting for their train. Be sure to check back in a day or two, because I will be posting a blog entirely devoted to the highlights of this photographic treasure trove.