Several people have theorized that they are real people, perhaps even a Mohonk employee and her child, because they’ve dropped an awful lot of empirical, lasting evidence for ghosts (who as a rule only leave a swirl of cold air or perhaps a little smear of ectoplasm behind, as I know you know). All sorts of little souvenirs have been found at that particular gazebo. You know the weirdest? Half-eaten plates of Chef Boyardee spaghetti! Yes! I know it sounds crazy, laughable, but stop and think a minute. Aside from hot dogs, is there anything in the world that kids love more than the Chef’s pasta?
There have been other things, as well-toys, a coloring book, a small silver makeup case that could well belong to a little boy’s pretty mom-but I admit it’s those half-eaten bowls of kid-style spaghetti that get to me. Whoever heard of a spaghetti-eating ghost? Or how “bout this? In the fall of 1984, a group of hikers found a kid’s plastic record-player in that gazebo, with a 45-rpm record on the spindle.-“strawberry Field’s Forever” by the Beatles, fitting, eh?
My friend at the concierge’s desk, Adrian, smiles and nods when you suggest it’s all a put-up job, that ghosts don’t leave actual physical objects behind (or trample down the grass, or leave footprints in the gazebo). “Not ordinary ones, anyway,” he says, “but maybe these aren’t ordinary ghosts, for one thing, everyone who has seen them says they’re solid. You can’t look through them, like the ones in Ghostbusters. Maybe they’re not ghosts, have you thought of that? They might be real people who are living on a slightly different plane than ours.” I guess you don’t have to be a guest at Mohonk to get a little astral; just working there seems to do the trick.
Adrian said that on at least three occasions a determined effort had been made to catch the mother and son by people who believed the whole thing was a hoax, and all three efforts had come to nothing (although once the searchers came back with another of those spaghetti-bowls). Also, he said-and I found this much more interesting-the apparitions had been showing up in and around that gazebo for four years. If they were realpeople, floaters or pranksters or both, how could the boy six or seven?
Okay, this is the point where, in a traditional ghost story, I would reveal that I myself had. seen the ghosts or the “Phantom Rickshaw. Except I didn’t. I’ve still never seen a ghost in my whole life. But I can testify that there’s something very special about that meadow, something hushed and-don’t you dare laugh-almost holy. I didn’t see ghosts, but there is definitely a feeling of presence there. I went without Tom, and will freely grant that probably made me more susceptible, but even so, I knew then and know now that I had come to a very extraordinary place. And there was a pricking along the back of my neck a sensation-very clear and specific-of being watched.
Then when I went into the gazebo itself to sit and rest up a little for the walk back I found the items I’m enclosing. They are perfectly real, as you see, not a bit ghostly, and yet there is something very strange about them, don’t you thinly?
The little woman-figure in the blue shorts is the more interesting of the two. It’s obviously what the kids call an “action figure”, but I’ve been teaching kindergarten for three years now and thought I knew them all. I don’t know this one, though. At first I thought it was Scarlet, from the G.I. Joe team, but this little, lady’s hair is a very different shade of red. “Brighter. And usually kids treasure these things, will fight over them in the play-yard. This one was tossed, into a corner, almost as if it had been thrown away. Save it for me, Kath, and. I’ll show it to my kindergarteners next fall… but I’m betting right now that none of them will know her and all of them will want her! I think about what Adrian said, about how the ghosts in Mother and Son Meadow might live on a slightly different plane, maybe of the astral kind, maybe of the temporal kind, and sometimes (often, really) I think Miss Red might actually come from that plane! (Does the idea gives you the shivers? It does me!)
Okay, okay, so a strong wind has come up outside and the lights are flickering. Put it down to that, if you want.
Then there’s the picture. I found it under the little gazebo table, you’re the art major, kiddo, tell me what you think? Is it some kind of gag-maybe a hoax perpetrated by a local kid who enjoys teasing the guests? Or have I found a drawing made by a ghost? What a concept, huh?
Okay, girl, that’s my creepy story for the night. I’m gonna stick the whole works in a little padded mailer from the gift-shop, then see if I can persuade Tom it’s time to stop shooting bumper pool in the game room and come to bed. Frankly, I’m not expecting it to be a problem.
I love being married, and I love this place, ghosts and all.
Still your fan,
Pat.
P.S. Please save the picture for me, okay? I want to keep it. Hoax or not, I think there’s love in it. And a sense, almost, of coming home. P.