Here they are as entered by you!
Stacey Burdash, SJPR Investigator
Matthew and our Friendly Ghosts
When we moved into our house in October of 2001, weird things started happening almost immediately. My first event was the first Saturday night we were here; Gregg went to Wildwood, NJ to see some of his friends compete at the District Barbershop Competition. It was about 9pm and Gregg was gone and Matthew was asleep in his crib, he was 14 months old. I went into my room to put new sheets on my bed. As I was bending over tucking in a corner "someone" yanked my ponytail. Hard enough my head lightly snapped back. I thought Gregg snuck back in and was trying to scare me. I turned around - nothing there. WEIRD.
A few days later Gregg and I watched our Halloween decorations on top of our entertainment center 1 by 1 tip over and then were lightly flung off onto the ground. WEIRD.
Within weeks we noticed our basement lights were ALWAYS on. We made a point to constantly check them and turn them off only to return a few minutes later and they were on again. We would pull out of the driveway, check the basement windows - no lights...pull back into the driveway - lights blaring....they were welcoming us home. LOL. One day after the 9th time shutting the lights off, I went down the steps about half way and asked who ever it was turning the lights on to please stop and I added please don' be afraid of the dark there’s nothing scary here and you're welcome to be here, but please stop turning the lights on. It stopped about 2 days later.
The activity really didn't bother me until Matthew would wake up screaming in the middle of the night at about 17 months old. He talked about a little boy. I figured he was beginning to dream. At 18-19 months old, we placed him in a bed. The night time screaming got worse. He was diagnosed with night terrors and we had to give him medicine at night to help him sleep. At about 20 months old, he started to complain about a little boy with a really big head that woke him up at night to talk and jump on his bed. Weeks went by and 3-4 times a week he complained, then stopped sleeping in his room. This became a problem, I was pregnant with Christopher and uncomfortable and now I have to share a bed with a wiggly toddler.
We talked about and he agreed to be a big boy and try to sleep in his bed. Within a week he woke we up running into my room crying that all of his pictures on his wall were moving. I walked him back to bed explaining he probably had a bad dream....but when I walked in there, I knew it wasn't a dream. All of his pictures were almost sideways or crocked. I slept with him in his bed that night. The picture thing happened so much, so often I took them all down and hid them. I walked in a few times to check on him only to find 1 particular picture back on the wall. It is a Norman Rockwell print of a child taking a teddy bear to the Dr. After a few months I started to hang the pictures back up 1 by 1 giving a few days in between for Matthew to adjust. That Norman Rockwell painting continued to be played with. Matthew could not reach the picture, so I knew it wasn't him. There were scratches in the wall from it being swung back and forth so much.
Unfortunately, Matthew got so used to sleeping in my bed that it became a habit. He had no problem falling asleep in his bed, but he was so scared at night if he woke up that every night, without fail, I would be woken up to a thump, pitter patter pitter patter, and feel a jump onto my bed. One particular night I rolled over to make sure he was covered and he said, 'Hi Mommy, who is that man in your room by the TV?' I was almost scared to look up. I said, 'No one, baby, go to sleep.' Matthew than began to talk about a tall, thin man with a tail. I didn't try to tell him he was imagining things; I just would let him ask questions. After a few more months he was back to sleeping in his room.
Christopher was born in September 2002. I spent a lot of nights awake with him; he was a colicky baby. We would sit in the living room watching TV. My days and nights got as mixed up as his. Many nights I would see a child out of the corner of my eye, watching me from the entrance to our bedrooms, or I would see a blonde head poke up above the railing to the steps upstairs. Gregg and I would hear giggling or crying at night when the kids were in bed and the voice wasn't from Matthew and Chris was too little. Many times I would see a child sneak from where the bedrooms are to the kitchen out of the corner of my eye. I would go into the kitchen to see why Matthew was awake only to find no one there. We got used to this activity; we just learned to ignore it and you don't notice it as much.
I have had interaction with this little boy a few times. I was peeing and as I got up and pulled up my pants, he was standing in front of me mouth wide open crying and arms wide open to me. I saw him clear as day for a split second. THANK GOD I had already gone to the bathroom - it was quite a startle. That night I had a dream about him. In this dream, he was traveling with his family on a "road" near by in the mid to late 1800's and the horse drawn wagon he was in flipped over. I believe his name is Jacob and he was injured severely in the accident. His father left him to find help and when he got back, Jacob had passed away. Apparently I remind him of his mother and he likes being around my boys, their toys, and I. Gregg and I have noted many many times if our kids are gone for the night, we will hear someone playing with the toys when no one is around. Since I had this dream and I know he feels the empathy I have for him and the love in the house, he has been quiet.
Then the new stuff started. Gregg and I were watching TV one night and we started hearing the door knobs being jiggled, like someone was trying to get in. Gregg went to the back door - no one was there. He sat down and the jiggling started again, only on a different door. Over the next few months this would happen a few times a week, until one night we heard the door open and the screen door open and slam shut. Mmmmmmm...OK, holy crap! Again, Gregg checked - no one there. It was normally the back door, it would happen all hours of the day. I began to joke our ghost wants to go for a walk. Then one day I got a really clear impression of the door knob jiggler. He was a male in his mid 30's that was mentally handicapped. He was short and stocky and always wore a red shirt. He liked to check to make sure all of the doors are locked. He obviously had OCD because he would wiggle that door knob for a few seconds, stop...start again, and he did this 5 or 6 times. He has communicated with me time and time again. If I am on the computer late at night, he paces behind me sometimes tapping my shoulder. I don't "speak" to him. I can feel and sense what he wants and he normally doesn't like what is on TV and I find a channel with cartoons on, he will leave me be.
My Mom, the eternal skeptic, witnessed the door jiggler and door open and shut one day. I walked into the kitchen after it happened; I thought she went outside. She stood there, white as a sheet. She said the door knob jiggled a few times, the door opened, and then the screen door opened. I said, 'Well, you look like you've seen a ghost.' LOL
When Matt was 3 and Chris was 1, I was trying to change a really nasty diaper and asked Matthew to give me a few minutes and to clean up some of his toys. He refused. I asked again, he refused. I raised my voice a little and it scared him a bit and he tripped over a toy and scraped his knee. I was on my knees on the living room floor bending over Chris and Matt walked up next to me to hug my shoulder. As I asked him to please sit on the couch because I was in the middle of something, the front door flew open, slammed, flew open and slammed again. Matt and I stood there, stunned. We both saw it and didn't know what to think. I didn't want to make a huge deal about it, so I kept my mouth shut. Then Matthew piped in, 'Mommy, who did that?' I said, 'The wind, probably.' He said, 'No, it wasn't the wind. That woman did it.' WEIRD. I didn't press for any more information.
We have large amounts of time that pass without any activity and it seems in the fall and winter, things tend to pick up a bit. About a year and a half ago, I came home from work, got out of the car, and heard a knock at the window upstairs, facing the driveway. It was a man in a red shirt; I just assumed it was Gregg up there, playing in the kid’s playroom with them. I waved back and smiled. I turned to walk towards the back door and there was Gregg...here we go again! LOL. That night I was out and when I got home, Gregg complained about thumping he heard and footsteps upstairs for most of the night.
We have all learned to live with the activity, it isn't harmful, may give us a scare once in a while, but we have learned to accept it. I have noticed my sensitivity from a very young age and had numerous visits since I was a child. I live within a 1/2 a mile from 5 churches and a high school. This is a very tough place for a sensitive to live. We sent out a beacon and they are attracted to us. Sometimes my house has been labeled a train station. Different spirits stop in and leave constantly. As long as they respect, me, my family, and my house, I don't mind at all.
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Stacey Burdash, SJPR Investigator
How My Grandmother said Goodbye
In July of 2006 I had to go to 2 wakes in 2 weeks. My great aunt's mom passed away - she was 92, bless her soul, and my great uncle passed away on that Friday - he was 78. I have noticed that I have been lucky that I have not lost anyone very close to me at a young age. My great uncle was married to my Aunt Anna Mae, my paternal Grandmother's sister. We are not close to my father's family for reasons I won't bore you with, but that really broke my heart when I heard the stories. I walked into the funeral home, which was the same funeral home where my Grandmother's wake was held, and his wake was held in the same room as hers also. And then I saw my Aunt Anna Mae - holy cow she looks EXACTLY like my grandmother. I began to cry and a lot of emotions I have buried deep inside came flooding through. I did not have a close relationship with my Nonee (my Grandmom) until I was about 15, she passed when I was 18 and the time I did get to spend with her those 3 years was wonderful.
She would keep a list of dirty jokes to tell me when I went to see her and I would do the same. She was a sickly woman who had both of her legs amputated, so she was house bound most of the time. Hence the name Nonee...she had no knees. She embraced this name like a gold medal. LOL. She had a great sense of humor. I would go visit her for the weekend and we would lay in her bed listening to country music and tell dirty jokes until we choked from laughter.
I remember the day she passed like it was yesterday. I was in the shower and I heard the phone ring loud and clear and I heard the phone conversation my Mom had very clearly. It was the police department calling to ask if my father could come to her home to ID her and give them permission to enter her home and to remove her body. I got out of the shower quickly and I told my Mom I would drive over to meet my Dad who was at work so he wouldn't be alone. My Mom still had to shower and dress. So I quickly threw on some clothes and ran out the door.
My Mom called out to me and asked that I stop by my brother’s friend’s house and ask him to come home. So I put my car in reverse and pulled out of my driveway...my trunk popped open. I got out, shut it, and didn't think anything of it. I drove around the corner to my brother’s friend’s house and he wasn't there, so I got back in my car and began to back out of the driveway. My trunk popped open. I got out, closed it, and wiggled it, punched it, etc., to make sure it was closed. It didn't open. So I pulled onto the main road, my trunk popped open. I had to pull over and this time I slammed it, wiggled, pulled, punched, and checked again - there was nothing wrong with the latch. I stopped at a red light and began to drive again and my trunk popped open. I again pulled over and a thought came over me. I knew it was my Grandmother, she was an insanely funny person with a rich sense of humor and I knew this was her. So out loud I said, 'Nonee, I know that is you popping my trunk, but I would really like to get to my father right now. I love you and I will miss you.' It didn't happen again. My father did not have a good relationship with his Mom and they were in the process of rebuilding their relationship when this happened. He had a major heart attack a few years prior and I did not want him to go there alone.
So I drove, tears streaming. I talked to her the whole time, retelling her jokes that made me laugh till I snorted. I got to her house and there were so many cars and ambulances there. I was numb and walked inside. A woman grabbed my arm and slowly walked me into her bathroom. She looked at me with pain in her eyes and said, 'You are Stacey aren't you?' I said yes. And she introduced herself to me. She was the nurse who came to take care of Nonee a few times a day. And she explained that my Nonee had talked about me CONSTANTLY and she knew the second she saw me who I was. So nervously I told her my weird story about the trunk opening over and over again on my drive there. She looked at me and said, 'Not more than 3 minutes before you walked in the door, the police and EMT's had finished moving her body from the floor where they found her to the bed to prepare her to be removed. And I bet anything that she was stalling you so you didn't see her that way.'
I stood, stunned. While I stood there staring out into the woods behind her little home, they removed her body from the house.
Two days later, my Mom and I went shopping for clothes to wear to her wake and she said she had found a dress that she insisted that I buy. So we went to the store and she found the dress. It was a drop waist dress with a white top, coral bottom, and a gold insignia embroidered on the left breast. I really didn't feel it was appropriate for a funeral, it was more suited for Easter, and I picked out a navy blue pant suit.
The night of the wake I was dreading every second as we drove closer and closer. We got there and I walked in and up to see her laid out. I almost fell over with laughter. Here was my Nonee, in the same exact dress my Mom was insisting I buy. That's my Nonee, I thought. Although thinking back on it now, if I had bought that dress and walked in wearing it, I don't think I would have ended up leaving without a straight jacket.
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Anonymous Submission
The thirteen year old girl at the plank house is a black girl who was burned in a fire and she wore her hair in pigtails and liked to wear blue ribbons. That's all she let me know.
SJPR admin says:
Thank you for offering this information about our friend at the Plank House in
Marcus Hook, PA. Visitors can check out our investigations of this
historic location by visiting our Case Studies Pages. ________________________________________________________________________
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