Last night I watched back to back episodes of Ghost Adventures. I made Sweetie Pie stay in the room with me until the second hour was over. I know that they probably use special effects and ghostly experiences are rigged or staged, but I was creeped out. I hate to tell y'all, but I'm a wuss when it comes to scary things. I don't usually watch that kind of thing, but I found it as I was clicking around the channels and I was kind of curious. Is it real or not? Do ghosts or spirits hang around? Maybe...
Years and years ago, I was a volunteer at The Hay House as part of my Junior League placement. That year, I was a Sunday docent, working twice a month. Now, I need to back up and tell y'all about my Grandmother Holliday. She was a Sunday tour guide at The Hay House for years, before The Georgia Trust became the owner of Macon's landmark home. Grandmother was a friend of Mrs. Hay, and she and other friends were dedicated to helping the Hay family when they opened the house for tours.
Many Sundays we (Daddy, Mama, my brother, and me) would pick up Grandmother for lunch after church. She attended Vineville Baptist, we attended Vineville Methodist, so we would swing down Hines Terrace where she would be waiting on the sidewalk in her Sunday dress, pocketbook on her arm, gloves on her hands. Brother and I would squeeze together in the back of Daddy's Pontiac so she could get in.
We usually went to the Elks Club on Mulberry Street for their Sunday buffet. Marshall would greet us and pull Kennedy half dollars from behind our ears. Amazing! Marshall was another Macon landmark. By the time Brother and I were thinking about the dessert table, Grandmother would be checking her watch. She was due there at two and hated to be late.
We rushed through dessert and dropped her off by the front steps where Chester would open the door and help her inside. Chester had worked for the Hay family and was the official greeter there for years. Several times we tagged along and listened to Grandmother as she gave tours through the beautiful home. I think her dedication to The Hay House was the impetus to my volunteer involvement when I returned to Macon after UGA.
So, one Sunday afternoon I was at The Hay House. I'm not sure of the date, but it was winter and a cold, drizzling rain had kept most visitors away that day. The regular docents were back in the kitchen to stay warm while I manned the desk and waited for the doorbell. The house was quiet. I could hear their murmurs from the kitchen and the rain as it hit the windows.
I knew there were only the three of us in the house. The earlier guests had been long gone, but we had about another forty-five minutes to stay open. As I sat there, I thought I heard someone in the front parlor. I walked through the marble hall toward the front door and glanced in the parlor. There was no one there. I looked through the pocket doors to the next parlor. There was no one there. The house was quiet, but I had a really creepy feeling as I glanced over my shoulder to the marble hall. I was still alone. I had to get the hell out of Dodge. I turned and briskly walked through the rooms to the dining room and burst through the swinging door, startling the docents who stared at me.
"It's really coming down now," I gamely said as I shivered and stepped in front of the heater. I wasn't about to explain that a ghost or something chased me back there. Now, I know y'all are thinking it was just a branch brushing against the window or the rain pelting down on the steps. There must be a rational explanation. I agree with you on that. There must be some explanation. Maybe...
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