I left for lunch today and went to my little picnic area at the end of another parking lot nearby.
I had planned on an activity, but forgot a component necessary, so that was nullified – more on that another day.
I’m still not feeling like exerting myself on a walk and it is bit north of breezy, almost on the windy scale, so I just parked under one of the trees and decided to rest inside the car.
I was enjoying some quiet time that allows for the settlement of the noise that gets carried out the door with me when I exit the building.
Pretty soon, the chatter inside my head was replaced with the flutter of the leaves above.
It’s then that the wind howls at me to look around and see the leaves being blown across the parking lot.
I realize that with each gust, they look to be running, skipping and chasing the group in front of them. It makes me smile.
And then there are those still on the tree, cheering as they clap together for those racing on the ground. Some get so excited that they let go of the security of the branch they have clung to all summer just so they can join in. A few come straight down, but there are those that make it a competition on how far they can surf that next wind current away from the tree.
Going to make it short today as I’m not feeling so hot.
It could be I’m getting a cold so am taking precautions in some zinc tablets and Umka drops.
As a friend mentioned, it could be life catching up with work running me over right now. I’ll be writing something on that soon, but I have learned to not say too much when I’m already feeling low so I’ll definitely save that.
So, for today, have a good one (or the rest of it anyway) and hopefully I have something better to say tomorrow.
If you’ve ever read Mitch Albom’s “Tuesday”s with Morrie” you know that it is a book about Mitch spending every Tuesday for fourteen weeks with his old professor from college who was dying.I think he writes it in such a way that if you had a “Morrie” in your life that it serves to remind you how precious that time is.
It is a book with wisdom and beautiful conversations between the two of them. I related to this, as I was lucky to have had someone that I had similar conversations with. Oh, not every week as they did in the book, but it was every break in college and every time visiting my home after moving away. I would call and time would always be granted to sit down and share where my life was and delve into the bigger meaning of things.
My Morrie always pressed for not what my surface feelings were but what were the currents that ran deep that stirred up those surface tides.
I would sometimes feel as though I had been operated on after a visit with wounds exposed that I hadn’t realized were there. Roommates would wonder why I would want to have hard questions asked like that, but for me, it was the genuine interest in what mattered to me and the guidance to let me see the bigger picture that made me feel cared for.
This book rang so true for me that I probably cried for two weeks at just the thought that I could one day loose that person who in my life provided guidance and spoke of life in concepts of how we deal with one another. She is the person who is as I once wrote to her, “my mentor, my guru, my friend”.
It’s been quite a few years since I have read it and still I find myself choked up at the thought. Unfortunately, so hard was it to fathom losing my connection that I think I subconsciously stopped communication for several years to insulate those raw emotions.
I’ve realized that it is a rare thing to get a person to ourselves for any extended time. So many times there are groups to get together, couples, teams and families. Sure we know each other’s families and the stories of coworkers and friends but mainly it has just been a dialog between the two of us. We all get some one on one time with friends but to have that special one that is set aside not fully intertwined with everyone else allows an honesty more closely associated with confession. Or therapy.
I’ve contacted my “Morrie” and conveyed my thanks as I now realize that those words that we think are out there and don’t need to be spoken, do indeed need to be conveyed.
“Not only does Denver have a long and rich history, but the past has left in its wake, a plethora of ghosts that are said to roam its historic streets and buildings.”
Friday night was scheduled with the “moms” for dinner at a trendy spot in Denver close to where we had reserved tickets for a haunted walking tour of that old Denver neighborhood.
The restaurant was a little too trendy as they didn’t have our table ready at the reservation time. We ordered and ate quickly, but were still a bit late getting to the meeting spot for the haunted tour.
When we gathered back together, no one was there to meet us. We waited for a bit and then decided to take ourselves for a stroll.
We passed The Molly Brown house. Several of us had toured it at one time or another.
Molly Brown House Museum – This three-story Victorian house, built in 1894, was once home to Margaret Brown, who became known as “The Unsinkable Molly Brown” when she survived the Titanic’s sinking. Today, her home is said to be haunted by her husband J.J. Brown. Never allowed to smoke in the house during his lifetime, he seemingly rebels today as pipe smoke is often smelled lingering in the attic and basement. In the dining room, chairs are often known to move on their own accord and a ghostly woman in Victorian garb as been seen. The specter of Molly’s adored cat has also said to lurk about the building. Near the first floor staircase, some have reportedly seen an angry looking butler peering at himself in the mirror. Other phenomena includes cold spots felt throughout the house, doors that open and close of their own accord, the sounds of footsteps in the upstairs ballroom, and misty apparitions are spied in various places.
I think our laughter kept the spirits at bay. We enjoyed viewing the exterior of the home, but nothing abnormal was noticed.
As we walked several blocks, we would see the name on an apartment complex and create a story of what or who was haunting it.
There was the lady with the cat, the guy with the dog, the building with block glass in the upper floors where it was told a person of note jumped through the previous glass to their emanate death resulting in the glass being replaced with the impenetrable blocks.
We passed The Denver Woman’s Press Club – a smallish old structure situated alone in the midst of parking lots and high rise new buildings. We said that the structure had been slated for destruction when the rest of the surrounding structures had been removed.
But each time someone would so much as touch a brick with the intent of razing the structure, the equipment would break, or accidents would befall the person in charge. This happened enough that it did not take long for the word to spread and no one would take on the project of destruction. Thus the lone structure sits untouched. (that’s our story anyway)
We didn’t make it down to the Croke Patterson Mansion, but the story there is eerily similar.
Built in 1890 by Thomas B. Croke, this sandstone residence was one of the country’s most elegant homes. Now serving as an office building, it is also said to be one of the most haunted.
According to the legend Thomas B. Croke, only entered the palatial mansion one time and was so emotionally shaken by “whatever” was there, that he never returned. Just two years later it was sold to Thomas M. Patterson, who’s family kept the home for several decades. Over the next several years, the building served many purposes, including a dance studio, a radio station, and a boarding house before it was converted to an office building. During the renovation to office space in the 1970’s, construction crews began to experience a number of strange occurrences.
After a long days work, they would often return the next day to find that the tasks they had completed the day before had been “undone.” After this had occurred several times, guard dogs were left to protect the property from what the workmen thought might be intruders. However, the next day they found the two Doberman Pinschers dead on the sidewalk after having apparently jumped from a third-story window. Once the renovation to office building was complete, employees almost immediately began to notice equipment, such as typewriters, copy machines, and telephone that mysteriously began to operate by themselves.
When a séance was held to determine who was haunting the building, they found it to be the spirit of a little girl whose body was supposedly entombed in the cellar. However, when the basement was excavated, they found a hidden chamber was found, filled with sea sand, but no remains of a little girl.
A ghostly image has often been sighted gliding up and down the main floor stairway and otherworldly voices have been heard here as well. Thomas Patterson, former owner of the home, is said to have been spied numerous times in the courtyard between the mansion and the carriage house.
When the building still served as an apartment building, occupants on the lower levels were known to complain about wild parties taking place on the third level. But, when these parties were investigated, they would be met with only silent emptiness.
We were having so much fun and sending so much laughter into the air that someone actually stopped us to see what tour we were on. We admitted that we had meant to be on an actual tour, but had missed it and created our own. He seemed jealous of our fun.
I am still smiling at the stories, fun and hilarity that we had.
This is a story inspired by one of the amazing folks in the writing exercise I took part in this week.
There once was this little girl who lived mostly alone. She had no mirrors to see what she looked like so she imagined what she might be. There was a glow from her that she could sometimes see ever so vaguely in the eyes of the bugs that would venture within view of her so she thought she must be a candle. She felt she was probably a beautiful candle because she felt pretty, but the things that were coming toward her and then diverting away never got close enough for the clear reflection from their eyes to let her know for sure.
She had heard from the wind that there would be ones who wanted to douse her flame by throwing themselves at it so she should be wary and to not let her glow be too bright. They never really seemed to reach her so she thought it best to keep the glow low although she secretly wished to shine brighter. Each time she raised her light level though, the wind would whisper that she had better be careful because soon things would be coming toward her with intentions to extinguish her light again.
For years she listened each time the wind told her to not get too bright. The wind seemed to know when the things that made her feel uncomfortable were coming her way. So she listened. Somewhere though, she felt she had a purpose that the wind would not let her hear.
One night as she listened to the waves crash against the shore near where she lived, she could feel the sea changing. It was dark and storm clouds were overhead and she could feel the churn of waves splashing near her. Normally by now she would hear the wind talking but tonight the turbulence seamed to come from below and did not include the wind.
The moon was now setting and the sky was heavy with clouds. The clouds became heavier than she ever remembered. Soon she could only feel the agitation of the sea but could not even see the rocks below her.
She was not sure what she should do. Normally the wind would have told her to be careful of being too bright about now but somehow she felt that if she would just turn up her light this one time that maybe the icy particles in the heavy clouds would be enough for her to just this once see herself in at least a translucent form.
So she allowed her light to shine. She sent out her radiant energy like she had never dared before.
All at once she heard yelling and screaming. First she wasn’t sure if it was her or something else. She didn’t immediately realize that it was one of the creatures the wind had told her about that was nearly upon her. Before she could even lower her light the beast had come withing splashing distance to her.
The clouds had lightened and had raised up and it started to rain. She could now see so much clearer than just moments ago.
To her horror there were things rushing around the skin of the beast pulling at it’s hairs and yelling to one another. Part of it’s skin seem to be loose and flapping loosely in the wind. Just as she was about to lower her light in self preservation, the thing turned and the eyes reflected back on her.
She could see her glow from the reflection in those eyes. She didn’t see a candle. She saw a strong fortress with rays of intense light. This wasn’t a flicker that she thought she must have been. She was beacon. She didn’t know if it was the rain or if she was crying to realize that she had this incredible light within her all along. All at once she realized that it was in her allowing herself to shine that had saved her. Had she not glowed in her brightest, the creature surely would have crashed into her. It was her shining that allowed them both to go unscathed.
From then on, it mattered not what the wind would whisper or howl at her, she allowed herself to shine at her brightest.
And once she did, she found that she too was noticed more and soon was visited by all sorts of beings who wanted to be in her glow. Soon, she noticed that the beasts the wind had warned her of were not trying to harm her. In fact, now that her light was always bright, more came to pass by her on the ocean side.
On the land side, people started to come and visit from there also as her light was seen and spoken of from all around.
If you visit, you will see a plaque near the end of the parking lot that was made for all the visitors. It will tell you of “Sacha’s Lighthouse” and how it was the first unmanned solar powered lighthouse of the region. But it was not a common route for ships to pass, as the light in the early days was not consistent. In fact, when the wind was blowing the most, the light was the dimmest. Ships for many years took alternate routes for fear of running ashore. The cause for the lights dimming could never be found, but since the night of an epic fog where one ship came within moments of smashing right into the point where the lighthouse stood, the lights have never since dimmed.
