So entrenched am I in farm life that rarely do I go anywhere these days that necessitates shaving my legs. Days seem to blend into the next with little to break up the routine. But I do so look forward to Halloween…not that I actually go out and celebrate the holiday, but I rub my hands in anticipation of all the screamingly good horror flicks that begin airing a week beforehand and recording them all to watch right up to Thanksgiving. While most folks are beginning their annual viewing of Its a Wonderful Life the evening of Turkey Day, Im settling nicely into Rosemarys Baby and shaking like a leaf.

Paul claims hes not very interested in them and that hed rather read a book, but I suspect that they scare him and he wont admit it. Or perhaps hes not looking forward to my annual rite of terror that results in me insisting on sleeping with the hall light on for a week afterwards. This year I became addicted to a couple of reality ghost hunting shows on cable television, complete with insanely brave young men, trapped out with all kinds of scientific hoo-haws, descending into the belly of the Allegheny Lunatic Asylum at midnight to search for documentation of ghostly encounters. My colon began to knot in the first five minutes, it was that frightening. And when I went out later for my nightly check on the horses before bedtime, youd better believe I took the terriers and carried a tennis racket. Not that it would do much damage, but perhaps I could impress a potential serial killer with my back hand.

These are popular shows and the laughably low budget film, Paranormal Activity is an enormous hit at the box office. What does this say about us as a culture? What does it say about me? Are we adrenalin junkies, addicted to flooding ourselves with terror as long as we can make it stop with a click of the remote or walking out of the theatre? I think it may be more…

For years I have hoped there would be concrete evidence popping up to prove the existence of the Loch Ness Monster. Having stood on the shores of that massive, black lake and seeing no other buildings besides a couple of pubs, it does make eye-witness accounts suspicious as does anything in regards to Big Foot. When someone tells me they have a ghost in their home I want to believe it hook, line and sinker. I dont think its about being gullible, I think its about the fact that our lives are so structured with work and family, errands and email, with science to explain the universe and space shuttles blasting off with such regularity that no one even notices anymore, that we are in a technological rut.

Everything has been pretty much explained to us and the thought of something other-worldly, something lurking in the ethers is simply too delicious to ignore. An actual pre-historic monster in a lake? A ghost that knocks paintings off the wall and turns the channel on the television? Isnt that marvelous? Just when we think we can prove and explain anything away, perhaps we will soon find out how very little we actually do know.

But for those of you who would rather not be terrified to participate in this same euphoria of the unexplained, there is many a wondrous thing to ponder that wont potentially kill you in your sleep.

For example, why is it that you swear you hear the phone ring as soon as you turn on your hair dryer? Why is it that the first thing you do when youre lost is to turn down the car radio? Why take another deep sniff of sour milk when youre certain it has already turned rancid? And why, oh why, do you insist on putting that pen that no longer works back in your kitchen junk drawer, ready to be pulled out again to write down a number?

Nothing paranormal, but just as mysterious….~ I’m Just Saying by Pam Stone