Speaking of ghost stories - didn't you say that the hotel you stayed in here in CT in 2005 was haunted?

Yes, I had forgotten about that.
I did talk with the staff and they told me that ever so often a guest in the past would describe the ghost I saw using the same details as I did.

It was harmless enough, but there.

One staff member told me there was a suicide in the building that was present before the hotel was built, or something like that.

Thank you for sharing LBJ ... you are spot on that life is the most amazing gift and just to be on the ride no matter the duration is glorious. Keep writing that book if it is what you want to do/how you can share the gifts ... we're listening.

This next post will end the Summer of 1975.

In my last post, I cleared customs in Houston and caught a Braniff jet to Dallas.
All was going smoothly until shortly before landing.

The pilot came over the public address system and called me out by name and asked me to remain seated and let all other passengers deplane.
That shook me up and I figure they had just waited to arrest me at DFW for the quaaludes I was carrying.

Little did I know that what was coming my way was worse than that.

Braniff officials boarded the plane and told me that my father had collapsed at the gate while waiting for me about 30 minutes earlier.

The way they looked told me things were really bad. And they gave me my dad's car keys.
As I exited the plane, another official gave me a small kennel which contained Dinky, the family yorkie. My dad took that dog everywhere.

About that time, the ambulance crew had returned to the airport and one of the paramedics told me that my dad did come back to consciousness briefly and relayed information that I was arriving from Houston and that he thought he had a food poising issue.
Then he lost consciousness again and they dropped him off at the Hurst Bedford Euliss hospital.
By this point, an hour or more had gone by.

I took Dinky the Yorkie with me and went in search of my dad's 1970 Gold with white vinyl top Riviera with a 454.

It took a long time to find it and once found, I drove to the parking gate with attendant.
I didn't have the ticket to determine the amount owed so the attendant told me I had pay a hundred dollars to exit.
I tried telling the attendant about the ambulance and all with my dad but he or she seemed unsympathetic, that I could not pass unless I coughed up the money.

I backed that Riviera up about 150 feet, punched it and as I approached the iron bar, it raised and I sailed through the open gate with sound of the 4 barreled carb sucking air in my ears.

Then I had to find the darn hospital which took another half an hour.

I arrived at the hospital eventually and went in. None of my family was there and a lot of time had passed since the original incident.

I told administrative staff my name and she said to wait here while they went to get a doctor to come out and talk with me. There were no family members around so I put 2 and 2 together...
It was crystal clear to me that my dad did not make it and was dead.

I saw a sign on the wall that pointed the way to the morgue, so I jumped the counter gate that was in my way and ran down the hallway flipping open doors to find empty rooms.

When I reached one particular room and began to open that door, a nurse further back down the hallway let out a scream. That told me I had the right room.

There was a body on a gurney covered by a white sheet. I drew back the sheet and there was my dad. He was ashen colored though not cold yet, he had lost sufficient temperature to make it feel very not normal.
There was a trace of dried blood that ran from one corner of his mouth.
I sat with my dad for about 30 minutes and talked to him and finally I got up to leave the hospital.

Just as was leaving the last exit door, a nurse ran up to me with an open paper bag which she handed to me.
It was my dads clothes and personal effects.
On top were a pair of white patent leather Gucci slip on loafers with gold colored buckles on them.

Now, I had always detested those shoes to the max and blurted out to the nurse: "I hate these shoes, I wouldn't be caught dead in these."
You should have seen the look on the nurse's face when I said that. I will come back to this later.

I walked over to the Riv as my dad called it and stood there crying and cursing.
And then I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I called The Father every possible swear word I could think of. I cursed him for what he had done and denied him in that moment.
Gosh I wish I hadn't done that, but I was young and dumb.
I do remember maybe a day or so thereafter that I asked God for forgiveness for what I said and that I was wrong to have done what I did.
God is a loving God and I am certain I was forgiven, thankfully.

Later I found out from my mother that she and my sister were at the hospital but that dad had been dead on arrival. They had waited an hour and half for me but went home thinking I went there.

Bear in mind this was July 15, 1975 and we did not have cell phones.

I took away 3 or more lessons from the event I posted about above.

1) There was no excuse for me to have cursed and denied God the way I did, I have never done so ever again, even in bad circumstances later in my life.

2) The pen and ink drawing giving to me the night before at the barracks was an omen of what came to be the next day. I learned then that there are things larger than myself at play in this world and that has stuck with me to this day. It is true, there are things larger than ourselves and to know this is a humbling experience and it's good to be humble.

3) There is humor in most everything in life and that is still true to this day. I am referring to what I said about not being caught dead in those awful looking white patent leather Guccis. Face it here for a moment, what I said about the shoes when they were handed to be is funny, hilarious even despite the circumstances I was facing.

I have tears in my eyes as I finish this post.

This third post completes the series called The Summer of 1975.

Yes, that summer made me what I am today. I can remember every little detail of the Summer of 1975 as if it were yesterday.
I was a child when I began that summer. Physically I became a man when I saved a life from the depths of the ocean.
Mentally I became a man when confronted with the circumstances surrounding the death of my father.
My religion and belief in God was strengthened after what I had done in anger calling out God for doing what He did to me as well as He showed me a spirit I took a shower with under a waterfall in the rain forest.
I had asked for forgiveness shortly after the cursing of God incident, I was forgiven, and to this day my belief in God the Father and Jesus the Son is stronger than ever.

I also wish to point out something else that happened to me and my dad in December of 1974.
Do you know how bad rebellious teenagers can be?
I do because I was one. My dad and I fought verbally in my senior year of high school and I stopped duck hunting with him.
I was so cruel back then and it broke his heart.

I came back from my freshman year in college and I went about mending fences with him. My education was already paying off and I understood him and why he did what he did with me.
I came home for Christmas break in December of 1974, every weekend that month we went to the cabin and the lake and hunted together again. After the first weekend of hunting, he bought me a model 1200 Winchester 12 gauge shotgun that I still have today.

On one of the 2 hour drives to the lake to hunt that December, my father looked over at me and said the following:
"Son, you are turning into a fine person and you have all the tools you need to go far in life. I love you and am happy with how you are turning out. I am not worried about you anymore."

How great is that? How many sons get to specifically hear from their father that they love them and think they are a fine person. I hope everyone does, but I suspect most do not.

I recently used almost the same language to my youngest daughter when she told me she did not what would happen to her after my death.

There you have it, and it is all true in The World According to Wigley.

I love the life God gave me.

I had put off and dreaded writing the post above.
But is was necessary to do in order for you all to have a greater understand of why I am the way I am.

Thank you lbj.

Tomorrow I get another infusion treatment and will find out when they have the next scan scheduled for me.

quote:

Originally posted by WaterburyBob:
Speaking of ghost stories - didn't you say that the hotel you stayed in here in CT in 2005 was haunted?

quote:

Originally posted by lbj:
Yes, I had forgotten about that.
I did talk with the staff and they told me that ever so often a guest in the past would describe the ghost I saw using the same details as I did.

It was harmless enough, but there.

One staff member told me there was a suicide in the building that was present before the hotel was built, or something like that.

Now I remember what they told me.
When the hotel was being built and under construction, a worker showed up in the night and committed suicide.

When I saw the ghost, he had on blue jeans I think a tan shirt.

Bob, I told you about that ghost in real time, didn't I?
If so, then the reader can see I have been talking about the ghost things for many years.

I didn't just start doing it recently.

Jeez, LBJ, I stop by every now and again to see what's going on over here and lurk, I must have missed this. What can one say you know. I hit all 55 pages, mostly scanned them and read what you posted. Aikens sends his best wishes, as do I.

It has been a while. Nice to see you care and post.

As you can read, I am sick, but either way this goes, I am fine.

quote:

Originally posted by lbj:

quote:

Originally posted by WaterburyBob:
Speaking of ghost stories - didn't you say that the hotel you stayed in here in CT in 2005 was haunted?

quote:

Originally posted by lbj:
Yes, I had forgotten about that.
I did talk with the staff and they told me that ever so often a guest in the past would describe the ghost I saw using the same details as I did.

It was harmless enough, but there.

One staff member told me there was a suicide in the building that was present before the hotel was built, or something like that.

Now I remember what they told me.
When the hotel was being built and under construction, a worker showed up in the night and committed suicide.

When I saw the ghost, he had on blue jeans I think a tan shirt.

Bob, I told you about that ghost in real time, didn't I?
If so, then the reader can see I have been talking about the ghost things for many years.

I didn't just start doing it recently.

Yes, you told me that real-time. I think it was over lunch at TK's in Danbury - either that or supper at Pancho & Gringo's in Brookfield.
That hotel is right next to where my work was located at the time. I remember you had the "rodent dogs" with you.

One thing you should know, LBJ, is that you will never be the subject of ridicule here. Ever, and it's not because you are an admin. It's because we respect you. For you to be honest and open with us in the midst of all you are dealing with is an awe-inspiring gift.

I am reminded of a quote from a TS Elliot poem.
It goes something like this:
He never really lived
So he never really died.

I think it was from J. Alfred Prufrock or something.

I may have posted before regarding the disposal of my remains.
It was always my intention to have a standard burial and the ashes of all my animals placed in my casket.
The catch though is that I have never wanted to know my final resting place.

I have got the wife on board with my new plan.
I am to be cremated, and the ashes of my animals are to be mixed in with me.
This makes us portable so that my wife can buy a cemetery plot and have the standard burial she desires.
And this way, I can either be thrown in the casket with her, or be buried next to her.

It's a win and I will not know where, see or visit my final resting place until I am gone.

I must say that I am happy my wife wants a standard burial with a headstone.
My name will appear on it too.

I think it important that a monument last for a generation as a place for my daughters to come and feel a sense of belonging and talk with us.

I know that whenever I go to Dallas, I find solace visiting the resting place of my family and having a few words with them about how thankful I am for who they were and what they did for me to become who I am today.

And I am very happy I outlived them so they do not have to see me die.

There is nothing worse in this life as a parent losing and burying their child. It's so wrong IMO.
Th younger folks should bury the older folks and that is the way it is supposed to be and that way, there is less pain all around.

quote:

Originally posted by lbj:

quote:

Originally posted by WaterburyBob:
Speaking of ghost stories - didn't you say that the hotel you stayed in here in CT in 2005 was haunted?

quote:

Originally posted by lbj:
Yes, I had forgotten about that.
I did talk with the staff and they told me that ever so often a guest in the past would describe the ghost I saw using the same details as I did.

It was harmless enough, but there.

One staff member told me there was a suicide in the building that was present before the hotel was built, or something like that.

Now I remember what they told me.
When the hotel was being built and under construction, a worker showed up in the night and committed suicide.

When I saw the ghost, he had on blue jeans I think a tan shirt.

Bob, I told you about that ghost in real time, didn't I?
If so, then the reader can see I have been talking about the ghost things for many years.

I didn't just start doing it recently.

There was a ghost at a hospital I worked maintenance years ago. I had 2 seperate encounters with him, it was pretty strange but not really scary.

Not sure what to say, lbj, but maybe "Thank you for sharing your journey" is a start. Your posts make me ponder so many things - past, present and future. When I read your words it gets me off the mental treadmill of life and actually think about the things that are really important. God bless. You'll continue to be in our prayers.

But but but, I am not well thought out according to another member in another thread.

Thanks for all for the kind words.
I try to be well thought out and challenge whatever mind I have left.

It is nice to see others have experienced the unusual that cannot be explained.
Lots of us see ghosts, but we do not let such affect our lives.

What is, just is.

What I would like to show in this thread is that there is living and then there is merely existing. I have done both in my lifetime.
One is much preferred over the other and it took me a while to figure that out.

LBJ, thank you for these insights and stories. They've helped many of us, I'm sure. I know they've been helpful to me.

I got infused yesterday and it kind of knocked me for a bit of a loop.

I do not feel creative today.
I don't like this.
It's the Opdivo.

I have done a lot with my dying philosophy, so I have moved to odd stories that have happened in the past. They usually have lessons in them for me.

quote:

odd stories that have happened in the past. They usually have lessons in them for me.

yes, my own preference is to reflect on the odd stories we all encounter that have no rational explanation.