Yeah, its that time of year again. When people other than us horror movie likin' folks start spinnin' ghost yarns.
At least I wish I was. Seems nowadays you don't see too many folks dressing up as monsters or ghouls at Halloween. I miss those days. There's nothing wrong with kids dressed up like Darth Maul or Harry Potter, but I miss the old days....old as in "When I was a kid" when we used to dress as ghosts, monsters and stuff. No big deal though.
now my droogies, your old Uncle Dante loves a good ghost story. I especially like "True" ones. there's nothing scarier than someone telling you a ghost story and knowing they absolutely mean every word of it. Even if you're skeptical of it, it gives you pause. The cool thing is that no matter where you are right now, I'll be willing to bet there's a few local ghost stories around. I discovered recently that the closed up hospital on Fort Dix is supposed to be haunted. that could be true or not, but it does add some flavor to the local folklore. So, in the spirit of Halloween I want to tell you about some local ghost stories from my hometown....even though I'm sure they ain't true.....
The Headless motorcycle Man of Cooche's Bridge:
If I never told you before, my hometown is Newark, Delaware. (Not New Jersey. In Jersey the pronounce in "NEW-ERK" in Delaware we pronounce it correctly..."NEW-ARK". ) Well, as you should know, Delaware is the First State. We might not have anything else there, but at least we can say that. Being the 1st State you can imagine that battles during the revolution took place there. Such as the Battle of Cooche's Bridge. I won't pretend to know any details of that battle...I was a terrible student. But I've been to the place. When I was in High School the road going over the bridge was a well used one leading to Route 896. Don't be too shocked...the bridge is all of maybe twenty feet spanning a small creek. but it did have a most likely bogus Urban Legend attached to it. in the 1950's a guy on motorcycle had an accident on the bridge, which severed his head. When I was about 16 I was told that he crosses the bridge at midnight on his bike looking for his head. Yeah, I know that sounds phony automatically, but it didn't stop me and a few friends from testing it. We parked right next to the bridge one Saturday night in a truck waiting to see the Headless Motorcycle Man of Cooche's Bridge. Of course he never showed up. Heh...maybe he did....I don't know...because when the first guy on a bike rode across the bridge that night we all left screaming like banshees. To this day I'll bet that guy is talking about the night a bunch of teenagers ran screaming from the bushes as he crossed the bridge on his Harley. If anyone else from Delaware has heard that tale, let me know.
The Boogie Run Baby:
This tale bothered me a bit because it was attributed to a person I know. Really. 'Boogie Run" was also called "Creek Road"...or "Crick Road" if you were talking to some of the old timers. Newark is a lot different now...but when I was young, Boogie run was a lonely road branching off of Cleveland avenue and going deep into the woods. We used to have bonfire parties back there in High School. I used to take my dog swimming in the creek, I even got caught skinny-dipping back there.
But the scary story I heard is that a lady I knew was said to have abandoned a baby back there in the woods to die. This supposedly took place in the 1950's or so....the baby died, and the lady was judged insane. I knew her because she was in the care of her family in my neighborhood when I grew up. But she was nuts. Nice lady....she just wasn't all there. They say that at night when the moon is full you can hear the "Boogie Run Baby" crying. The sound always moves when you think you're close to the source. I can't say I've REALLY heard it....but my grand dad told me if you find the Baby you'll also find a big ass pot of gold. Yeah, that doesn't sound like truth. But the story did at least get me laid once from a scared little chick. Heehee.
My Haunted Past:
I'm far too lazy to recount every single time I thought I encountered the supernatural, but dig this....I grew up in my grandparents house. But about five doors up the street was my Great Grandparents house. it was old and battered and looked haunted. Even when my grandma's brothers lived in it I thought it was haunted. But after they passed away a distant aunt moved in to that house. Now you have to understand that many of my aunts (I only have two real aunts and they're great-aunts) have said that they can see spirits. My Aunt rose who was living in the house told me that she saw "Gran' Pa"...my great grandfather...he lived to be 101... standing in the kitchen one morning. according to her she was on her knees scrubbing the floor when a penny rolled in front of her. She looked up and there was Gran' Pa. She told me he used to roll pennies in front of her when she was little girl. I'll admit, I believe aunt rose. She's always been straightforward and not given to flights of fancy. But even more straightforward than she is my aunt Dot.
ghosts or not, Aunt Dot is living proof that there is a god. I believe in God anyway, but there was a time when Aunt Dot convinced me that someone unseen was looking out for me. The details of that story are this....I was living just outside of Boston...this is a year or so before I joined the Army. I was flat broke, living in a small cold little house and it was snowing like crazy outside. The only thin I had in the kitchen was a can of beans and some tea bags. I was literally thinking I was going to starve to death since I had no money at all. With nothing to do but be hungry and watch the snow I rifled through that day's mail...the sun was down, it was dark, I was hungry and lonely. But there was a letter from Dot's daughter, Margaret. Inside was about 75 bucks, cash! And the letter read that Margaret had sent it to me to buy food. I was shocked so I called her. Margaret then told me that her mother, Dot, had told her to send the money at the urging of my grandmother...who had been dead for at least a year. Dot said that my grandmother came to her at night and asked her to help me because I was far from home, alone and hungry. I can tell ya, friends, that 75 bucks worth of groceries sure beats some old beans and tea. And dot doesn't lie or make up tales. She's really religious so I know something paranormal took place there. At least it wasn't something scary.
But the cap on my belief that there's a real final frontier is this....I never had a real dad...my grand father filled that role when I grew up. He wasn't perfect, he wasn't the best damned guy on the planet, but he was my grandfather. He used to call me his "Little Buddy" like the skipper from Gilligan's Island. but I always knew he was proud of me. anytime I did anything , no matter how trivial, he'd brag and boast about it around town. Even my aunt rose told me that if he had lived to see me in the Army he'd be bragging about it right now, even if I was peeling potatoes. But his big dream was to see me go to college. Maybe he did. During my freshman year I was awakened by the thought that someone was watching me. I looked up and saw him standing in the corner of my room. I swear it. It was him, in the suit we buried him in. He kind of melted away as my eyes focused, but to this day I believe he came to see me, to see how I'm doing and to wish me luck on my way.
So yep, I do believe in spooks, my droogs. I just don't think all spooks are out to scare us. and that makes Halloween a little more fun.
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