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.
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