Halloween - In the Spirit of Things

I owned a 1915 bungalow south of Fountain Square here in Indy that came with it’s very own spirit. People would see a shadow over by the upright piano in the dining room that came with the house. I’d not mention it, but notice people turning their heads in that direction from time to time and ask them what they saw. The reaction was invariably “what was that?” To which I’d say, “I think that’s the original owner of the piano and I don’t know why, but I think they want it fixed.” One of the first times that Robbie was over to my house, we were watching TV (which was on a stand by the double doors to the dining room) when I saw him whip his head around in that direction. He then slowly turned to me with this puzzled look on his face and quietly asked "What was that?"

The other odd thing that kept happening was that things would disappear only to reappear moments later in a place you’d already looked. Car keys frequently would not be where I thought I left them. Misplaced checkbook that was always kept in the same place. Remotes that would vanish and reappear later. I would just chalk up to me being an airhead.

The strangest time was when I was playing with a Westie puppy I had at the time and told him to go get his ball. Nine months old and as smart as a whip. We were in the living room and he started looking all over the place and kept coming back to me like he was trying to say “help me, I can’t find it." So I started looking under all the furniture, and moved into the bedrooms thinking maybe he left it under a bed. Well, neither I nor Max could find it.

We went back into the living room and there was the ball right in the middle of the room. A bright yellow ball on brown carpeting would have been easy to spot if it had been there to begin with. That’s the only time I really felt uncomfortable living there. I owned the house for a while and rented it out after moving in with Robbie. The renter freaked out when she saw it and called me to say that she didn't want to be there with a ghost.

The new owners got rid of the piano. I've wondered if the spirit is still with the house or if it's with the piano now. And did the person who ended up with the piano fix it?

Home

At the top of my blog is a quotation from Robert Frost. This post is about home. My/Our home.


Today is our anniversary, Robbie and me. Four years ago today, we had a church ceremony. It's not legally recognized in this state, but that matters not to us. What matters are these things:

We were surrounded by family and friends who have had a significant impact on our lives.

We wanted to declare what we meant to each other in front of our friends, family and God.

We wanted to build further on what we already had and make the foundation of US stronger.

The next day in church, the minister introduced us as having been married in the sanctuary the day before. If the minister and our friends can call it a wedding, then it was a wedding and not a commitment ceremony.

And I've never been more sure of anything in my life than knowing/believing that by committing my heart to be intertwined with Robbie's, that my life would be forever richer.

In those short four years we have:

Brought home (at different times) two Westies and lost the first one to theft. Oh, how we grieved with that loss.

Gone through an emergency appendectomy (mine) and several bouts of kidney stones (also mine) that on more than one occasion required a hospital stay.

Had a car die on us (literally) on the way to Robbie's parents over Easter weekend two years ago.

Bought a huge honking SUV to replace the dead car because we knew (hoped) that we would get a baby soon and wanted the extra protection while on the road to visit family five hours away.

Finally brought home a baby girl last year who couldn't have been more perfect for us if we had tried. Of all the jobs I've had in my life, this by far is the most rewarding, being Daddy.

Moved back to Indiana to raise our daughter here, where things just seem a little more true. A little less frantic. Let's face it. Chicago is a great city but it's exhausting to live there.

Built a life together that makes me blink and stare wide-eyed in amazement at what we have, when I have the time to take it all in.


For those of you who don't know, I'm kind of an animation freak. (It's the child inside.) My favorite one is Lilo & Stitch. There's a line toward the end of the movie where Stitch is talking about the family that he found and wants to be part of. He says "This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little and broken... but still good. Yeah. Still good."

There are a few places I could go and they would take me in if need be. Good people I have the honor to call friends. But there is only one place I want to be, and that's where ever Robbie and Riley are. My own family may be little and unconventional, but it's still good. Yeah. Still good.

Ursa Minor

For H who was first, K who was next, and R who was last. Without you, any/all of you, I would still be wandering, lost in the night.

Why do I still after all these years seek you out?
You are my guide through the minefields. You give
me safety, a haven, leading me over hillocks and ditches.
Ditches I’ve dug till my palms have bled,
dug to hide the wounded, the infirm.

The markers and flares that burst over head cast a
sallow light allowing me to see who I’ve left in
waters so cold that their very bones ache.
Aching as does my beating heart bound in
the sounds of despair and pain that wind round us.

I need to go on, for the flares also light our path
forward, your hand lightly holding my arm.
Your whisper, soft, in my ear, says not to worry,
for they will find their own way even back to dust.
They are not to be buried. Burial would be forgetting.

You remind me that the furrows I’ve dug
are not meant for me, that new tasks await me
as the little bear shows us my way home, that three
isn’t five in my new world. The three remaining strayed
as I kept an eye on the dragon, turned their backs, gone.

Three isn’t five, you whisper again, placing a soft
hand gently on my back, giving me momentum to glide
across the new landscape stretching infinite before me.

And at once I see it all.