Tuesday, June 15, 2010

My First Experiences

I thought I had blogged about this but I have briefly looked through all of my posts and can't find it, so if I am repeating myself, I apologize.

I was born in Columbus, Ohio.  For the first three years of my life I lived in a half of a double in Clinton Heights.  Clinton Heights then was a lovely little burb with neatly lined houses and well-tended yards...now, not so much.  My mom tells me this story, but I don't remember a bit of it.  I am not a sleeper, never have been, never will be.  My mom was so worried about me when I was a toddler that she even talked to my pediatrician about my lack of sleep.  He told her that I was fine, she just had to make sure I had a set schedule that allowed for sleep and that during that time I had to know I had to stay in my room by myself.  So that's what my mom did.  I could do whatever I wanted from 7:00 to 7:00 in my room as long as I didn't leave it.

My mom talks about how in the beginning, in the middle of the night, she would hear the toys in my room moving, only I was in a crib and couldn't reach them.  Remember, I'm 40, this was before electronic toys.  When I was old enough to have a toddler bed, she would hear me in the middle of the night and would peek into my room to find me sitting on the floor, playing with toys that had been put away and I couldn't have reached, happily chatting away with someone.  I was never afraid of this "person" and I was a happy-enough child, so she choose to just let it be.

Things didn't get weird until it was time to move out of my first house to another house in Clinton Heights.  This was a three story house, with our playroom in the attic.  My mom was downstairs packing boxes and she would hear someone walking, stomping actually, in the playroom even though my brother and I weren't up there.  The closer we got to moving, the louder and angrier the noises got.  My brother, who was three years older than me, was terrified and refused to go into the playroom. 

One day when she heard something crash and break, my mom decided enough was enough.  Now, my mom thought very little of the fact that I seemed to attract spirits, this was common in her family.  So she marched upstairs to talk to the spirit  (She always suspected it was her grandfather for some reason).  She told him that she had been very understanding about his presence and never stopped him from playing with me, but he had drawn the line when he had scared my brother.  When my mom tells this story, she still uses her best motherly tone.  She claims she said something to the effect of, "I'm sorry you are upset that we are leaving, but that's just how it is.  If you can't be nice and stop scaring my son, then you are not welcome here."    And just like that it stopped.

I do believe this spirit has been a presence with me my whole life, although I can't really tell you why other than the fact that my daughter is aware of it and is scared of it.  One day I am going to have to sit down and talk to her about all of this, but it just doesn't quite fit with the whole pastoral family thing.

Tomorrow, my first experience with a murder victim (I was in 1st or 2nd grade.)

Also, I am going to talk about my experiences at Ft. Hayes in Columbus so you might want to get started by reading this.

1 comment:

Bubblewench said...

I think you did write a post about seeing him or feeling him in your room when you were a child.. but not from mom's POV. Pretty cool.