I just have a few minutes and thought I would relate a strange experience I had as a child.
I was about6/7 years old and went over to visit my first cousin--it was their practice to take an afternoon nap--the kids that is---wasn't my practice but whatever the adult said-you know---so off to the room I went.
It was a nice room--four poster bed--no canopy--and there was a piano in the room--the door was shut--plenty of light came in from the window and I was lying on my side sort of staring at the piano which was in my field of vision---when all of a sudden a hand appeared--palm out just above the left back edge of the piano--and the hand moved from left to right--from one end of the piano to the other--it was a large hand--not a childs--a mans hand--when it got to the end it was gone--I didn't cry out--but have never forgotten it--some 54 years later. That's it------The Codge

copyright 1919

I love this--thought I would share--- the Codge

Of the Great Soul there are two charateristics,irony and pity.
By irony I mean nothing hard or cruel but only that gentle laughter which arises from the realization that most things make no matter.
Most Tempest are in a teapot,much of the words ado is about nothing,most frantic medicines are for diseases that would best cure themselves if left alone.
So Experience works a kindly indifference to those who are wise enough to learn.And the really beautiful time of life is old age,when the storms of passion have been out sailed,the thunders of protest have died down,and the calm of twilight the subtle wisdom of adjustment lends the landscape a crystal beauty.The high lights are gone and in their absence we perceive actual values.The crash of endeavor,the discord of struggle,have ceased and the universe hums with pure harmony.
Then we smile,but without bitterness.
We are amused but without contempt.Our laugh at the vanity of men"s vanities rings with no derison,no mockery,no egoistic superiority,but bespeaks only our happy vision of the heart things.We laugh.
Once we would have wept.
With Irony, a sense of removal,come pity,a sense of nearness.We are far from men.We are nearer than ever before.
We pity,because no longer we condemn.
WE have come down from the Judges Bench and are a friend at court,because we have found out that human hearts do not need judgement,but help.
Once we criticized:now we see it is not worth while: the essential is sympathy.We, delt damnation right and left,we divided sheep from goats with a thorny stick,we had heros and villains.
Time has budded our staff,has blunted our sword.We are coming nearer to the Gods,and perceive that after all they do not judge they smile at them and pity them.
Children and grand children have sprung up around us and taught us something.What they have taught us is that we are all children,to be borne with and waited for,and not to be forced continually to sharp decisions beyond their powers.
With age we learn we are under more obligations to our children than they to us; and we suspect the Gods feel also that their responsibility is greater than ours,that the judgenment day would be as terrible for the Judge as for the prisoners.
Pity weeps and makes life sacred. Irony smiles and makes life amiable.And Irony is gentle and kind."It teaches us to smile at wicked men and fools whom,without it,we might have the weakness to hate"
4 minute essays--copyright 1919 Dr. Frankl Crane Volumn 6

I'll soon be leaving my memories of the old brick apartments we lived in---the 5th floor first door on the left--baseball,catching fire flies,throwing rocks at snakes down at the creek,sliding down hills on pieces of cardboard,china berry fights,hiding from salemen and the pretty older girl who wore a majorette outfit with the white boots who practiced on the front landing!
On many weekends we were at my Grandparents house or going up to the country to their weekend retreat in the foothills of the blueridge.
I learned to love the country and wildlife and shopping on Friday nights in Stephens City or Winchester--especially around Christmas time.
Grandad taught me a good work ethic-and I loved earning money and really appreciated the compliments for a job well done.
I have some memories of when I was 2 1/2 years old as well and 3 when dad had his business--servicing semi trucks--my memories like the times were in black and white--big trucks and men in greasy overalls-working on them--and the times they gave me rides in those giant monsters of the roads.
Picture this scene--a heavy snowfall--bright beautiful Christmas lights-cozy picture windows with folks having a delicous dinner in a Rest, toy stores and ice cream shops all a glitter, Christmas music playing somewhere--a salvation army person ringing a bell to get donations--and a wonderful spirit and the feeling of safety and brotherhood--such are my remembrances of the late 40's and early 50's in the Va. countryside.
From this point forward--I will tell of our times in Edgewater Maryland where we lived from 1952 till 1958--P.S I'm still looking for my old childhood friend from the Waldorf apts-- later Yall the Codge

Footsteps on the Stairs

EIGHT,NINE,TEN,the collaboration of creaks moans and breathing as loud as a storm,the shadow of death only seven steps from my room.I was counting up as our lives were counting down.I didn't want to turn my head toward the doorway and look on his hidious face as this grim reaper rose to steps ELEVEN and TWELVE.I was like a rabbit frozen in the headlights,immobile,waiting for the end to come. I thought about my family and my Grandparents so near and yet so far and my 16th birthday I might never see as the DEVIL himself reached stair THIRTEEN.I had to do something but I was suffocating. I tried to form words which were held back by the lump in my throat as the messenger of death reached stair FOURTEEN.The next step was so loud and the breathing seemed so close,I could feel its presence as it neared my room and the FIFTEENTH step wailed and the banister groaned and his hot breath stirred the air. I clenched my fist took in a breath as the creature mounted the SIXTEENTH stair. I SCREAMED at the TOP of my lungs, "gRANDAD-GRANDAD!!"
Immediately whoever or whatever it was bounded down the stairs in 3 strides-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM landing hard on the metal grating,causing an ear shattering noise that ricocheted throughout the house like an explosion,and I heard footsteps run off into the house.
Grandad hollered from his room,"RICKY" what was that"? I said there was someone in the house and they were coming up the stairs.I met Grandmother and Grandad in the hall,Grandad in his night shirt and Grandmother in her Gown, Grandad had is double barreled shotgun and down the stairs we went Grandad then Grandmother than me.
Grandad checked every door window,closet and behind the furniture and then we checked the cellar-all was locked and secure. He told me similar things had happened over the years and had gone unexplained.
I still suspect a prowler cause I didn't think ghost would have to bound down the stairs--but how could a person clear all those steps in three bounds and not fall--in the dark?
The old house is still on Wakefield St. in Arlington--I wonder what the new owners have heard. The end-----Eric the Codger

Footsteps on the Stairs

The next few hours were a learning experience. I read till about 2 a.m. and silently thanked Robert for leaving such treasures. I turned out the light but lay awake thinking about the sexual revelations on those worn pages--it was a pleasant night and the shadows danced on the wall and the aura of the st. light cast it's glow from across the road--------When suddenly I heard a familiar sound at a not so familiar time, FOOTSTEPS down stairs. It sounded like someone walking from the kitchen toward the dining room. The house had been so quiet and I heard every step CLEARLY!!Many things raced through my mind in the next few moments. WE were all upstairs,no one had gone down because I would have heard them. The sudden realization HIT ME and cold chills shuddered through my body,there was a prowler in the house!!I heard steps taken again,the old boards creaked under the strain and the sound seemed to radiate across the floor like ripples on a pond. I was very frightened but fought hard to come up with a safe explanation instead of the more obvious one,I even pinched myself,I was definitely WIDE AWAKE.
I listened intently and heard the slow deliberate steps of an intruder,they were becoming louder and now the infant nightmare rapidly matured and was moving through the dining room toward the hallway below,and the bottom of the stairs.I lay frozen on the bed,afraid or unable to move and my mind raced with questions,"what would I do"? If I cried out would he silence me forever,if I remained silent would he enter our rooms.
The unknown intruder stepped into the hall near the bottom of the stairs and I could hear the linoleum give--under the weight,the floor SIGHED and I almost lost my BREATH!!I had entered the room a cocky self assured 15 year old and was now a frightened young boy staring at the ceiling afraid to move. If there was a cry for help to come from me,it was lodged petrified somewhere in my throat. My.
body was motionless but my mind an explosion of thoughts as I accessed my vulnerable position. My room had no door,and I had no escape,no weapon and I lay unmoving,a sacrifical offering on the bed. The next step the intruder took again sent cold chills through my body and made my HEART SICK,my ears exploded with a vibrating cresendo,as he stepped onto the metal grating at the bottom of the stairs.The ensuing echo reverberated throughout the house,GOD I hoped my Grandparents had heard it but they stirred not from their aged slumber.I've never felt so alone and unprotected as I did on that alter of a bed, just 17 steps away an unknown evil prepared to ascend and my courage plummeted into the abyss of fear!!CREAK the first step wailed,the banister groaned and the unknow specter spawned in hell only 16 steps from my room.
I tried to SCREAM but the words silently left my lips not even causing a stir in the blackness of the room. The SECOND step sounded its mournful song,and the banister groaned and I silently counted TWO,only 15 steps to the top.Slowly,menacingly and methodically he came,trying not to make a sound,but the old house betrayed each step and I searched for the guts to cry out. I silently counted THREE.It seemed like an eternity between the rising steps, I had too much time to think and my anxiety grew. I made feeble attempts to rationalize a non threatening scenario but the fact was that EVIL was coming and he might already have heard my pounding heart. FOUR then FIVE as the staircase protested underfoot and then as if suddenly steadying his climb the WALL MOANED under the unknowns pressure. Stories my Grandad used to tell came flooding back,of footsteps in the halls and moans from the attic. I wish I hadn't remembered because my fear increased. I had to do something to help us but still lay frozen in fear.Steps SIX and SEVEN thundered their arrival and a new sound bristled my hair and turned my blood to ice,tears welled in my eyes and FROZE on my face,the sound of heavy labored breathing now accompanied each step.