THIS OLD HOUSE AND THE GHOST

THIS OLD HOUSE

Robert Isenberg

         The young man's hands were shaking as he pulled out his checkbook to give us his rental deposit on the house.

         “I have one question, he said, “Is this house spooked?” Not a  smart question to ask within earshot of our sensitive ghosts.

Unbelievably Dana answered,”Of course, but they are nice ghosts.They won’t bother you if respect the house.”

I’ve seen people move in my time, but never as fast as this young man. Dana and I were sure we heard the ghosts giggling.

 How did all of this happen?

 I flashed back to thirty five years ago. Dana, our baby Sarah, our Westie, Honky, and myself lived in an apartment on East 54th street in NYC. We had a very functional space and best of all a courtyard. One day Dana said, We need a shelf in our kitchen.”

“Why?” I asked.

“To put stuff on it,” Dana explained.

“How can we put a shelf in our kitchen?  They don’t deliver shelves in New York. It’s not pizza!”

“Have you ever heard of hardware stores?” asked Dana.

“Yes, I noted,but there aren’t any hardware stores in New York. In NYC nobody tries to fix things themselves. People call the super or somebody that knows how to fix things.”

Dana sighed, “On your way to work there is a hardware store on 49th and Third. Tell them what you want to do. They will sell you everything you need.”

I did what I was told and actually put up a usable shelf in the kitchen that actually held “stuff.”

 Sometime later Dana woke up nudged me and said, We have to move.”

“Why?” and I went back to sleep.

When I awakened, Dana was waiting,

“Because our apartment is too small.”

“Do you want me to move out?” I asked.

“We need a bigger place,” Dana said.

“Where? All the larger apartments are crazy expensive. We have an incredible bargain here.”

“What about checking the burbs. Let’s drive out to New Jersey it will be an adventure,” smiled Dana

 “Lets find one of those New Jersey diners that prepare every food known to man and listen to people speak.”

“Why do that?” Dana asked.

For one thing their menus are fabulous, and for another thing our kids are going to grow up with what ever accent the area has.

 We found a fine looking Jersey diner, ordered our food and just listened to the accent. “ Don’t think so” said Dana,” let’s try Long Island.”

We did. Same results.

 “ I guess we should go back to Mass where people speak like us.” We drove up to Boston and began checking the Real Estate Sections.

 “Old Colonials only forty miles from Boston and reasonable.”

“Where?”

“Newburyport. Let’s go!” She was excited.

We drove there and took a deep breath. “Look at these houses! They are palaces!  One after another.

 We found an agent named Raymond. We were impressed. He was wearing a pinstripe banker’s suit along with well shined black wing tip shoes. Best of all he spoke with a New England accent.

He took us from house to house. He had a way with words.

He pointed out the patina on the wainscoting. He pointed out the many features of each house.

These old houses welcomed us. Dana and I were sure we heard them saying ,”You look like such a lovely young couple. Please, please buy us. People tramp through us saying they’re shocked that we’re still standing.

 Late that afternoon, Raymond took us to this very old house. The house had been vacant for at least three years. Only stray cats had lived there. It smelled accordingly. “Six fireplaces, two with bee hive ovens. One fireplace’s hearth that stands almost five feet in height. Many of the rooms had the original beam ceilings. “ Look at these twelve inch wide floor boards. They had been reserved for King George.” Raymond then took up a very serious pose,  “I held this house for you. Your names are on it.”

 “I’m not going to show you another house today.” Weeks later we learned why. His seat at the local tavern was beckoning.

 I whispered, “I believe the house is spooked!! It’s also way too much work!!”

Dana eyed me. “Why? You put up a very sturdy shelf in N.Y.C.”