I’m going to tell you a ghost story today.
Don’t be scared.
I wasn’t going to tell you a ghost story. All week I pondered. “Should I or shouldn’t I tell my readers about the ghost at the Landmark Inn in Marquette last weekend?”
The truth was–I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good ghost story. Who wants to be the ruin of a magnificent ghost story about a fair maiden on the top floor of the Landmark Inn who wasted away after her lover dashed to his death on the floor of Lake Superior, never returning to his beloved?
Here is the Infamous Ghost Story as presented by the Inn (where Kiah and I stayed last weekend during a wonderful wedding celebration for her friend, Amber):
Ghost Story of The Librarian (from the Landmark Inn’s Website)
During the 1930′s when the Northland Hotel (Landmark) opened, it was the social and cultural center of town. Downtown Marquette was considered a larger town in the Northern Midwest where many in remote outposts came for supplies. An Ore boat’s arrival was a major event bringing a crew to enjoy shore leave before the ship sailed again, full of iron ore.
One crew member was a regular visitor to the town library and caught the eye of the spinster librarian. Being 30 and unwed was a hopeless situation for a women in that day, but hopes revived as the librarian fell in love with the visitor. Her love was returned and the two decided to make Marquette their home.
The crewman left for his final cruise on the big lake. He would collect his pay and return to marry his love. As fortune would dictate, the ship met with one of the infamous Superior storms and was swept away taking the crew to a cold wet grave.
The librarian never recovered, she couldn’t work or eat and soon died from her broken heart. It is said that she looks out from the Lilac Room on the 6th floor and waits for her love to return.
OK, that was my introduction to the ghost.
I decided it was my duty–as a blogger–to make contact with the ghost and see what was up.
Let’s back up to last Thursday night. First, I wrote a blog about a leopard dress which attacked me in Target. This entertained me tremendously as I wrote the story while sitting in the upper tier of the Landmark Inn’s bar and sipping a fine Chardonnay.
My heart was light and happy and filled with delight and–upon laying down in bed–decided it was time to make contact with The Ghost.
Of course, most of you would probably wait for The Ghost to make contact with You. In which case you would still be waiting.
I decided to approach her directly. That means (OK, lean close, I’ll tell you my secret) you sit there in bed with your eyes closed and address the ghost in your thoughts.
You may laugh and think this is imagination. But, dear reader, I have had at least sixteen incidents in which “imagination” turns out to be True.
This is how it unfolded.
Don’t be scared.
“Hello, Ghost, this is Kathy,” I say in my thoughts. “Are you there?”
No immediate answer.
“Hello!” I say cheerily again, waiting.
“Hello,” a voice in my thoughts replies. “Oh hello! How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Hey, are you the Librarian?”
“That’s what they call me,” the voice replies. “Who are you?”
“I’m a Blogger,” I say. “I have to say–upfront–that I’m here to write about you. So please don’t say anything you don’t want to see in print.”
“A blogger?” the Librarian replies. (You can tell she’s offended. It’s not a book. She’s a Librarian.)
“Indeed,” I answer, perkily. “So, how are you, after all these years?”
“I’m doing much better,” she says.
“Did your lover drown in Lake Superior?” I ask.
(This is where you might want to ignore my story if you–truly–want to believe the original version of the Librarian offered by the hotel.)
“He didn’t die,” she sighs. “He just left me.”
“He left you?” I ask, intrigued. “I thought he died and you mourned him years and years and finally wasted away…”
“He left me,” she insists.
“But I’m learning–” she says, continuing on, “to love myself. You know, back then I thought that loving another person was the most important thing. But I’m learning to love myself is the most important—”
(Oh, reader, you can call this my imagination. You can. Because that’s something I agree with entirely. Honoring and loving ourselves is one of the most important things we can do.)
“I’m really not here much these days,” she continues.
“Because a few years ago, these people came to the hotel and tried to convince me that it was time to ‘come to the light’ and quit remaining here,” she says. “So I don’t come back here often. In fact, I may not be here much longer…”
“I can’t believe you’re TALKING to me,” she adds. “Most people just come here and want to see a ghost. No one wants to talk to me. They wouldn’t believe it wasn’t their imagination. Thank you SO much. By the way, have you been reading any good books lately?”
So, there, you have it, dear reader. My conversation with a Ghost.
You weren’t frightened, were you?
I DID say to the Librarian, “OK, nobody is going to believe that we REALLY talked. Can you show yourself to me? Please? In the middle of the night?”
“I’m having trouble doing that these days,” she sighs. “I’ll try, but it’s hard.”
Your blogger then, mercifully having fulfilled her duty to contact The Ghost, falls asleep.
She awakes an hour later to a feeling that her legs are being touched.
“Thanks,” she mumbles to The Ghost. “OK, maybe I’ll blog about you–maybe–you can leave my legs alone now–”
And that’s the Story. Please feel free to share your own Ghost Stories in the comments. Or, if you don’t have any, feel even more free to talk with your dearly departed and TRUST that they are really responding to you.
Scout’s honor, I think they are.