9:15 a.m.

Recently, around 9:15 a.m., something has emitted a small beep.

Beep.

A little electronic sound. Nothing remarkable, really.

Except I don't know where it's coming from. It's like an alien has moved into my home. I know it's there because I hear it. But I don't know why or its reason for being.

Beep.

Maybe this tiny noise goes off at other times, but at 9:15 a.m. on some mornings (not every morning) I am reading the newspaper at the table, having finished my breakfast. Husband has left and the house is quiet save maybe for the hum of the refrigerator or furnace. And then I hear it.

Beep.

I look up from the paper, perplexed. The sound seems to come from behind me, but there is nothing behind me but my curio cabinets. And my glassware does not beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Thursday Thirteen

I know it's Thanksgiving. But I am offering up something different. Here are 13 things that would be different if women ruled the world!

1. No combustion engines. Come on, you know women would create something that runs cleaner and doesn't require oil and grease.

2. Rounded curves on appliances. Instead of corners we'd have smooth surfaces that didn't cut into you when you ran into them.

3. Lawn mowers that start without a lot of upper body strength. Any woman who has ever tried to pull the handle on those pull-start mowers knows what I'm talking about. You need to be a weight lifter to make those things run.

4. Regulations against chest hair. Instead of laws about going topless, of course. And definitely no hairy backs!

5. Chocolate at every meal. It wouldn't just be a treat anymore!

6. Faces without makeup would be quite acceptable, thank you. So would hairy legs.

7. Smaller, lighter tools that actually worked (not just the "toy-like" tools that some places offer up as an option for women. And they wouldn't be in pink, either.).

8. Computer games without extreme violence. Something more along the lines of the old Kings Quest or something. Or more puzzle games and brain games.

9. Less bloodshed. Women don't like gore and gross things, plus war is just so last millennium. Let's move on, shall we?

10. Those stirrups at the OB-GYN office would be padded, adjustable and warm. And the GYN would always have small hands.

11. No more jokes about the time of the month, mood swings, menopause, etc.

12. Viagra would be banned. Actually it probably would never have been invented; that effort instead would have gone toward better vibrators.

13. Perfume that smells good to women because they like the smell of it, not because they think men like it.

This could go one forever; thank goodness it's a Thursday Thirteen!


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 115!

The Other Nephew Bags a Mule Deer

My nephew Trey, my brother's son, went with his dad and his granddad (my father) to Montana last week on a trophy hunt for mule deer.

My brother and father go hunting just about every year; this was the first time for Trey. He will be 15 in December.

My brother and father killed nice deer, too.

The Nephew Bags His Buck

The 15-year-old nephew, Chris, bagged his first buck ever during muzzle loader season.

The 9-pointer looks to be the only one that will be taken from the farm. Regular rifle season hasn't been very productive. Of course, it isn't over yet.

Chris took his deer with one shot, which is the way I like to see them killed during a hunt. None of this shooting them and watching them run around in pain. Drop them where they stand - that's the way to get the job done.

The meat is already being eaten. Some of it has been made into jerky; some into hamburger. It doesn't go to waste around here.

Congratulations to the nephew!

A Close Shave - For Women Only

This morning when I went to shave my legs, I discovered I was out of razors.

You ladies know the kind. Cheap, disposable single blades that used to cost a $1.19 for two dozen and now cost about triple that for 20. We use each disposable until it's rusty and then get a new one. If we're lucky a whole bag will last several months. Maybe even a year if the blades don't rust.

My husband now uses a Gillette Mach 3 razor, generally, but he complains about the cost of the blades. And they are terribly expensive. So the last time we were in Sams Club, he bought a big box of Bic Comfort 3 razors. They were cheaper than the others and he declared they would last just as long.

So I dug one of those out of the box and went for it.

My gosh. I had no idea I could actually enjoy shaving my legs. Who knew a razor made such a difference? That thing glided up my calf and in behind my knee without so much as nick or a whimper and left everything so silky smooth - even with soap for my shaving lather - that it was almost sexy. My legs purred, I swear.

Quality does make a difference sometimes, doesn't it? I can only imagine what this might feel like if I actually spring for some shaving lotion.

It will be really hard going back to the drugstore brand when this razor gets dull.

Through the Glass

"I got a buck today!"

My friend Brenda called me moments ago to tell me she'd bagged a buck - sort of. My first thought was she'd hit one with her car, but she said that wasn't it.

Turns out a little button buck ran through one of the buildings she owns and rents out in downtown Roanoke. The building is located on Brambleton near Towers Shopping Center.

This is the kind of story newspapers and TV stations love, but according to my friend nary a journalist was in sight as a steady stream of police and animal control officers waded into the fray in an effort to calm the frightened animal.

It took three tranquilizer darts to put the deer down, Brenda said.

On November 7, a similar incident took place on Campbell Avenue. Here's a report on it from the newspaper.

An incredulous as this sounds, it is an expensive incident for the building owners when these things happen. Replacing windows is not a small thing, and there is likely blood and animal feces and urine to clear up, too. And the building owners don't even get to eat the meat!

This is the time of year when the bucks are in rut - they've only one thing on their minds and it isn't watching where they are going. They are so busy chasing does and their hormones are so out of control its a wonder there aren't more reports of this kind of thing.

This is what happens when humans and animals don't learn to live well together. The deer population is a bit high because we have removed their natural predators, most notably wolves. There aren't too many of those running around the Roanoke Valley.

That leaves humans as the only natural predator for the deer, and unless they are hunted then the herd numbers grow.

Animal lovers think this is a good thing, but a herd that is too large ends up being a poor herd. The deer inbreed and the animal population ends up with pie bald or albino deer. Or they don't have enough to eat and they become sick from malnutrition. I don't think it is any better to watch a deer starve than it is to kill it and eat it, myself.

I do not hunt and I don't eat the deer meat my husband brings home but I see the need for the activity.

Poor Brenda, I feel bad for her. This was a bit of bad luck that no one deserves!

Welcome Windows 7

Yesterday my disks from Dell came for my Windows 7 upgrade.

In July, regular readers will recall, my Gateway of four years developed a hardware issue. The resolution was as expensive as a new computer. I had a new computer purchased scheduled, but not for another year. I bit the bullet and bought the thing early.

After a horrible experience with an ASUS computer, I ended up with this Dell. It came with Windows Vista, an operating system which received poor reviews all around. However, with the new computer came the promise of a free upgrade to Windows 7, which at the time was touted as being more stable and better and what Vista was supposed to me. Sort of like Windows ME prior to Windows XP, I think.

Anyway, I did not dislike Vista and was using it on my Gateway laptop anyway, but when the upgrade arrived in the mail yesterday, I could scarcely contain myself.

I'd read that an upgrade could take as long as 20 hours. Yikes. But the little two page-manual Dell sent said it would take two hours.

At 2:50 p.m. yesterday, I plugged in the "upgrade assistant" DVD from Dell. By 6:15 p.m. (longer than two hours but certainly not 20), the thing was done and my computer was up and running on the new Windows 7.

The upgrade via Dell was very easy. The "upgrade assistant" took care of removing software, such as audio and video, and then adding the Windows 7 versions back. TThe only software I really had an issue with was my keyboard software. I use a Microsoft Natural Keyboard and the intellipoint software did not jive with Windows 7. This was easily solved with a download, however.

The other issue was my desktop. I like a Windows Classic look most of the time (solid blue screen) and my desktop came up with pretty icons on a black screen. After some fiddling with preferences I managed to get the desktop back to something I like.

I'm pretty happy with it so far. The printer works, my MS Office works, Quicken works, and the virus software works. Those are the main things. And I feel very comfortable knowing that at least for a little while this operating system won't be abandoned by Microsoft.



*Nobody paid me anything to write this.*

The Diarist Revealed

You might recall that I had come across a diary written in 1904. Here is the story that resulted from my finding out who the author was:


Carrie Lee Hamilton, who died in 1952, was the author of the 1904 diary found by a Craig County auctioneer and handed over to me because the diary mentioned Firebaughs.
An October 28 story in the The Fincastle Herald detailed names and circumstances of the life of the 20-year-old writer. Within a day, Rosalie Hamilton Goad had identified the diarist as being her great aunt.

Recently Goad and her cousin, Claudine Drewry Spangler, met me so I could return the diary to the family. As fate would have it, Spangler and I had met when my husband's uncle passed away a few years ago. She was related to the Firebaughs by marriage for sure.

In another strange twist, she revealed that she lived with Carrie Lee Hamilton for the first 11 years of her life, and she attended school with Pat Charlton, the brother of Don Charlton, the auctioneer who initially found the little book.

The diary held the concerns and pathos of a single woman who longed to be a good Christian and maybe find a beau. Spangler and Goad reported that her aunt, Martha Jane Hamilton, who raised Carrie, thwarted the latter goal. She went so far as to move Carrie to Wyoming after she received a proposal in order to keep the young woman unwed.

"You know if she picked the whole family up and moved them to Wyoming, she ran the show," Rosalie said of her Great-Great Aunt Martha.

Aunt Martha must have been a pistol - literally. Claudine reported that she always carried a gun, usually in an egg basket under a cloth.

Carrie Lee Hamilton was born on December 28, 1884 in Alleghany County. Her mother died when she was four and Aunt Martha, called "Aunt Matt," helped raise her and her brother Grover.

They grew up in the Woodland area of Botetourt County, near the intersection of Country Club Road and Blacksburg Road. Apparently she still lived in that area in 1904, based on the information in the found diary.

Sometime after that, Carrie received her proposal from Joe Baker and Aunt Matt moved her away, but they returned after a few years. Aunt Matt purchased a farm on Old Fincastle Road and named it Willow Tree Farm. She left the property to Carrie when she died in 1941.

Carrie owned a small country store in the Zion's Hill area of northern Botetourt. Goad has a 1936 diary and a ledger from the store that once belonged to her great aunt. She believes that Carrie kept diaries all of her life, but does not know what became of them all.

In her diaries, Carrie writes of making mattresses, raising a garden, working with flower bulbs, canning, milking the cow and other tasks of rural living. She also became a staunch member of Zion Hill church, where she taught Sunday school.

Claudine Spangler's parents, Claude and Marie Drewry, moved in with Carrie following Aunt Matt's death to help with the farm and the store. In return, they received the property when Carrie passed away from pleurisy at the age of 68.

"You had to take care of your people," Claudine said. She owns the property now; her mother lived on the 52-acre farm until she passed away in 1999.

The store burned in 1953 and the original home has been torn down, Claudine said. A small house was built on the store location.

She remembered Carrier Hamilton as being a tiny woman. She made clothign for Claudine and her sister and even taught Claudine for most of the first grade because a broken arm prevented her from attending school.

"I don't remember her ever complaining," Claudine said. The 1904 diary, with its concerns about Christianity, surprised both Claudine and Rosalie, who remembered their great aunt as a devout Christian.

She was so devout that "she let anybody in the world cheat her at the store," Rosalie said. "People took advantage of her, even her brother."

She described Carrie as a hard worker who was always looking for ways to make money. One of her efforts led her to make "rats" for women's hair. These hair switches, similar to hair extensions today, brought her the small sums of 50 and 20 cents each, depending on the type of hair piece.

"Aunt Carrie was really good to my mother," Claudine said. Her mother loved to wear jeans and pants, something not nearly as normal in those days as now, and Aunt Carrie went so far as to purchase knickers for her.

"It looked rather masculine," Claudine said.

She also remembered that Carrie was constantly writing stories. She remembered one story was about a woman whose lover went to war in the War Between the States but he did not return. "She went to the gate everyday to look for him," Claudine said.

The legacy of Carrie Lee Hamilton, who never married or had children, lives on in her great-nieces, both of whom recall the woman with much fondness. Essays about Carrie Lee Hamilton and other family members can be found in the Botetourt County Heritage Book.

Rosalie, who has letters and other writings from the time period, hopes to create a book from her family information, now that she has retired.

No one knows how the 1904 diary ended up in Craig County, but the journey of it back to Botetourt has certainly made it a rare find.

26 years

Today is my anniversary. My husband and I are celebrating 26 years together.

We met at a James River/Lord Botetourt football game, played at LBHS. At that time the home team was on the other side of the field from where it is now, and people tended to congregate beneath the goal post on the right side as you look at the field from the school.

I had graduated high school in 1981 and some friends lured me back to the campus for the game. Said friends introduced me to James.

I remembered him. We had ridden the school bus together lo those many years ago. He was four years older than I and of course had no time for the mousy little girl who sat on the back seat and did her homework. I had no hint of a romantic notion for the boisterous boy who would race from the bus and climb aboard a motorcycle left at the end of his driveway. Kids always moved from one side of the bus to the other to watch him zoom around the field. He seemed to free.

And there we were meeting beneath the goal post. We tried to make small talk, talking about the game, going to school, our mutual friends. He asked me if I would go out with him that night, and I told him no, I was with friends. He asked if I would go out the following night and I told him no, I had plans with my parents who were celebrating their anniversary.

Poor thing, he was trying very hard, wasn't he? We left the ball game and then we met up again at Mike's Market, a local hang-out and grocery store. At that time it was located in what is now Bellacino's Pizza. He again asked me to go out and my friends this time urged me to go. One of the couples with us said they would go out also, and the rest would find another way home (I was driving and had my own car.) One of them promised to call my mother (which she did). This was pre-cell phone.

So I drove to meet him at the Ramada Inn, which was a hotel at the Hollins exit of I-81. He was with a friend of his. The place had a nightclub and it was the place to go. And there we danced and shared our first kiss. We quickly became an item and the rest, as they say, is history.

Call me Scrooge

For over 20 years I have awakened to the sounds of a certain radio station. At 6 a.m. they give a rundown of local news and generally they play Adult Contemporary music. It is a music mix that I enjoy. My alarm goes of just a moment or two before 6 a.m., so I usually hear a song before the news comes on. I like having time to hit the "off" button if I don't feel like listening to the woes first thing.

On Monday, the song that greeted me was a holiday tune. I knew immediately that the station had switched to its Christmas music mix - and it was only November 16. I grabbed my glasses and fumbled with the clock radio dial until I found NPR.

And there it will stay.

I have had it with this station. I love Christmas carols as much as the next person but not before Thanksgiving. That's just too soon. It's bad enough in the stores; I don't need it piped into my house, and I will not tolerate it.

How can a holiday be special if you celebrate it with so much crass commercialism? It's not like they're just playing O Holy Night the entire time, no. They are playing the whole mess, from Grandma Got Runned Over By a Reindeer to Holly Jolly Christmas. Christmas is about the birth of Christ, and the rest of it is just marketing.

But this is not the only reason I will no longer listen to this station. Their contests verge on mean sometimes. Their music has been steadily moving in a direction I don't care for. One of their morning DJs in particular has become so militant I can hardly stand to listen to him some days. So after 20 years, I am telling this radio station "good-bye" and I am moving on to something else.

While I like NPR, I don't particularly like waking up to it. It is nothing but news at that hour and I need a little while to get myself together before being bombarded with the latest crime wave or economic disaster or war or pandemic. So I am thinking now what I need is a whole new wake-up method. Maybe some kind of player for my IPod so I can wake up to something I actually want to hear.

Or maybe I'll just put my clock radio on the buzzer, and let that be my morning song.

A Poem

The day is nearly done.
The sky, grey with clouds, dims.
Wind whistles among the house eaves.
Deer dance in the front yard,
their victory over the earth
a celebration of life.

Book: When Panic Attacks

When Panic Attacks CD: The New, Drug-Free Anxiety Treatments That Can Change Your Life [ABRIDGED] [AUDIOBOOK] (Audio CD)
By David D. Burns
Read by Sam Freed
3 hours

The nonfiction audio book suppy at the Fincastle Library is pretty dismal, and when I was in there a few weeks ago looking for something to listen to in the car I came away with this.

I haven't had something that I called a panic attack in many years, but there was a time when I couldn't go into Walmart without feeling like I needed to flee the store. But then again, it was Walmart. That alone is enough to send a body screaming out into the parking lot.

The CD is a synopsis of the book and I suspect one would be better off buying the book and reading it if there is a problem in need of addressing. The CD had a lot of testimonials and stories about people with problems and how Burns' counseling techniques helped over come them.

I was particularly intrigued by some of the journaling methods he mentioned and may at some point look for the book just for those. I like to try new things in my private journal.

Your feelings are your thoughts is the basic premise of this book as well as the first one, Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy. I read that a long time ago but it has been so many years I couldn't tell you what it said. It is probably something I should revisit from time to time.

Thursday Thirteen #113

Here's a Thursday Thirteen that takes a look at routine, normal work day for me, as my life is now without so many articles for newspapers to write.

1. Get up, drink a cup of decaf tea, and hit the treadmill. Walk, walk.

2. Shower and have breakfast, which usually consists of an egg, V8 juice, and a banana. I read The Roanoke Times, which these days doesn't take as long as it used to, and make notes if there are any stories that I think might be a good idea for an article or even a poem or short story or that not-yet-started novel.

3. Check emails. Respond to anything that requires attention.

4. Write a blog entry.

5. Read other blogs (see my side bar on the right for some of the blogs I enjoy).

6. Work on an article. This might be making phone calls, querying an editor about a new story idea, going to interview someone, or researching something online or in a book.

7. It should be about 11:30 a.m. now, and the phone will ring and it will be my husband if he at work.

8. Lunch. This is my most difficult meal. I am dieting and lately have been eating a lot of tuna salad or salads. Today I want something, hot, though, because it is wet and windy. Empty the dishwasher and clean up the kitchen.

9. Check emails again, and respond to anything that requires attention. Throw clothes in the washing machine as required.

10. Back to work on articles. Generally this is where I should be working on a novel or something, I think. Some long-term project. Right now these hours are rather nebulous for me since my workload is not what it once was. Some days I read, some times I garden, sometimes I just piddle around on the computer until the hours are gone.

11. Return phone calls.

12. Prepare dinner.

13. Watch TV or read.

Pretty boring, eh?

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 113!

Praying for Aunt Jenny

James' aunt underwent pancreatic surgery yesterday. This is an involved surgery called a "whipple" procedure. It takes six to eight hours to complete, which is a long time to be under anesthesia. The pancreas is an organ in the middle of the body so getting to it is quite an involved process.

The procedure, the most common operation for pancreatic cancer, involves removal of the pancreas, a portion of the stomach, the duodenum, common bile duct, gallbladder and surrounding lymph nodes.

Then everything must be reconstructed and put back together. It is one of the most complicated and severe surgeries out there.

The news on Aunt Jenny is good. She survived the surgery, which, considering her advanced years (she's 78), was a worry. The doctor thinks that he removed all the cancer, which is also a good thing. Still, once she has healed from the surgery (in about 7 weeks) she will have to undergo chemotherapy and radiation.

Pancreatic cancer is the disease that killed my mother, so this has been somewhat traumatic for me. Lots of memories and thinking back on a terrible year of my life - the last year of my mother's life. It was a rough time; my mother did not fair well with the surgery and had complications that resulted in her spending that last year with a feeding tube. She could not eat or keep down food and her discomfort was great.

My mother's cancer was not removed with surgery, though at the time they thought they "had got it all," too. Instead it turned up in her liver and in her other lymph nodes and soon she was eaten up with cancer. She did not respond at all to chemo and radiation therapy. I remember my grandmother's lament that she knew the drugs weren't working because my mother's hair never fell out.

I am seriously praying that Aunt Jenny does not experience any complications from her surgery because it only makes matter worse.

Aunt Jenny is not my mother, and I am hopeful that this will turn out to have a happy ending. Aunt Jenny is a dear woman, someone who welcomed me into my husband's family with open arms and a hug and a kiss. Not everybody is so accepting and I have always appreciated that.

I also have known her since second grade, when she was a substitute teacher, and that is about 40 years. That is a very long time to know someone.

If you pray I hope you will take a moment and offer up a thought of love for Aunt Jenny. She is in a tough battle and can use all the good vibes she can get.

Thistle? or Milkweed?

Thursday Thirteen

Things about November....

1. Foggy mornings


2. Turning up the heat

3. Hearing the cold wind howl around the corner of the porch

4. Big fat moons


5. Long, drawn out shadows

6. Light blue skies

7. My 26th anniversary

8. Autumn reaches the valleys.


9. Giving thanks for the many joys in my life

10. Snuggles beneath the covers to keep warm

11. Pumpkin pie

12. Holiday shopping

13. That certain slant of light


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here. This is number 113!

What would you do?

One of the radio stations is running a contest. If you hear your name and call in, you get on the "payroll" and win $50. You receive an additional $50 for every hour that goes by and the person whose name is called does not respond within the allotted 10 minutes.

This is a game that rewards you for someone else's bit of misfortune. Because the person whose name is called doesn't listen to the radio station or can't get to the phone or whatever, you receive more money.

I started wondering what someone would do if they were the person who was winning and the next name called out belonged to someone they knew?

Would you hope they don't call in, thereby missing out on $50?

Would you call your friend and tell them to call in right away and get the money, which means you would not get another $50?

If your friend was well off, would it matter as to how you responded?

What if it was someone who had lost their job? Would the circumstances matter?

And what difference does it make if you know the person or not?

Books: Sex and the Seasoned Woman

Sex and the Seasoned Woman: Pursuing the Passionate Life
By Gail Sheehy
Audiobook read by the author
Copyright 2007

This book is not about how to marinate prior to getting it on or anything like that; instead, it's about women of a certain age. That would be ladies such as myself who are 45 and over, though this book was written more for women over 50. I am not quite there.

Sheehy seems surprised to find out that other women besides herself continue to have sex and fulfilling lives beyond the age of 35. This newsflash seemed a little perplexing to me, considering Sheehy's feminist narrative in previous books.

Anyway, she interviews a lot of women about their love lives, offering up stories about stale marriages that find new life when children grow up, women who divorce and find new loves, that type of thing. She talks about cultivating a new dream in your second adulthood, which seems like a good idea but there was nothing at all here in terms of a roadmap. I think she was talking about that in terms of intimacy more so than in, say, a career, or a new hobby or something. I was looking for something more along those lines when I picked up the book.

She goes into detail about vaginal health and hormone therapy and actually advises women to dismiss studies that indicated hormones offer few benefits. According to her, the study was overblown in the media and the results actually offered proof of good things. I haven't read the study but this did raise my eyebrows. I will have to look this up.

I did not really learn anything from this book but women who are having trouble in their marriages and who are looking for the strength to move away from that may find it beneficial. It may also give a little encouragement to women who think that life is over just because they've hit menopause.

Remembering a Halloween

My favorite Halloween occurred when I was a teenager. My friend Revonda and I ventured out to a haunted house, I think it was in Vinton.

The haunted house was properly spooky; lots of blood and gore. We clung to one another as we wandered through, shrieking at the appropriate moment.

Near the end, a werewolf came after us. He growled, snarled and then removed his mask. "I've been watching you two. You chicks look hot," he said (or something like that). "Wanna meet me after I get done here? I'll give you a real treat."

Yes, the werewolf tried to pick us up. He was really on the, um, prowl. We declined as we both had curfews. Not that we would do anything like that, anyway. We were good girls.

I think about my friend every year at this time. I haven't seen her since about 1985. After I graduated we stayed in touch; I floundered around, much as I am now, in an effort to find my niche, and she went to William and Mary to study public administration.

In 1982 I drove to Williamsburg and visited with her for a weekend. I had just met my future husband-to-be, though I didn't know that yet, and so we were all girl-giggly over the prospect of my having a steady fellow.

Revonda never returned to Roanoke. She married and lived in Norfolk a while, then moved to North Carolina where she divorced, and is now in Montana with her second husband. We send Christmas cards every year, and occasionally but not often exchange emails. She's definitely traveled around much more than I, and I suppose maybe lived more than I. She's some kind of top official where she lives.

A few weeks ago on a Sunday afternoon, I looked up her number and called her for no reason other than it was October and I was thinking of her. We had a nice long chat, catching up on family and friends.

We both remembered the night the werewolf tried to get us in the back seat of his car and wondered if the wolfman ever got his girl. I kind of doubt it; he definitely needed some new pick up lines!

Haunted Fincastle

The old jail in Fincastle. It surely must have a ghost or two.

Saturday night my husband and I went on the Fincastle Ghost Walk. Central Academy Middle School students hosted the event as a fundraiser.

I have been on this ghost walk several times, always before as a reporter for the paper. This year I was just a person!

The walk took in the ghosts at the Courthouse, the ghost at the Hayth Hotel, a story about an old woman who died the middle of the road on Back Street, the Kyle House, which is reportedly haunted by a number of ghosts, the Godwin Cemetery, The Figgat House (the Tuckers' current residence - Terry did a great job as the ghost) and the Douglas Building.

I took pictures but most of them did not come out. I also didn't get any weird orbs or anything like that. Too bad!



Above is a bad shot of the rear of the Methodist Church from the cemetery. I am not sure what those blue lights are...

I leave you with a version of my favorite of the stories we heard:

A fiddler went up into Kelly's Hollow on his way to New Castle and stopped for a drink. The farmer invited the fiddler to spend the evening with him, since it is a long journey by foot.

The farmer told the fiddler about a secret cave he had on his property. The next morning the fiddler asked if he could see the cave.

The opening was small but they crawled in and found a huge cavern with many winding passageways leading away from it. "I wonder how my fiddle would sound in here," the fiddler said. He opened up his instrument case, put the fiddle to his chin, and began to play.

The echoes of the music were astoundingly beautiful and he played for hours. He began moving around while he played and soon vanished down a passageway. The farmer called for the fiddler to return, but he did not.

Finally the farmer left the cave and ran for help. Searchers turned out and began looking for the fiddler. Sometimes they could hear the sounds of his instrument but they could never find him. After three days they no longer heard the noises and they gave up.

But now late in the evenings when the wind is just right, travelers on the way to Kelly Hollow can hear the dancing tunes of the fiddler as he makes his way through the cave passages...