From: spice@convex.csd.uwm.edu (James G Spice)
Subject: Re: Father's Death
Organization: Computing Services Division, University of Wisconsin - Milwaukee
Date: Fri, 21 Aug 1992 06:25:29 GMT

Double whammy story, but first several points.  Though I do believe parnormal
events may indeed occur, I also believe most of them are the product of
very realistic dreams, overactive imaginations, selective perception and
retention, and memories tending to mutate the more the story is told.  I
tend to be skeptical of any "ghost story" story I hear, seeking to find
reasons to reject it rather than to accept it (must be all of those 
phylosophy of science classes).  It is much easier to do this given
the anonymity of the net than it is when the story comes from a person
or persons who you know personally and  whose word you generally take
at face value.  For these reasons, I am reluctant to post the following
incident.  Further, the story is from a very personal and emotional time
in my life, and it is not pleasant recounting.  Finally, I generally
don't liked to be considered nutty.  But what the hell.

Like the situation of a previous poster, my father had been ill for
as long as I can remember.  He was in his early fifties when I was
born the last of 8 children (my mom was 48 (Catholic family)).  Shorlty
after my birth he was diagnosed with an anurism (sp) of the aorta artery,
a weakening of the artery wall, and was given something like 6 months to
two years to live.  He was pretty stubborn though, and was intent on
sticking around to make sure that his youngest grew up well.  Though
he was in and out of hospitals quite frequently, he amazed the doctors
by surviving past any of the deadlines (interesting word) they would 
happen to set for him.  The pertinent point here is that by the time
I was 15, I was very used to him being rushed to the hospital at the
drop of a hat; it was a three- or four-times-a-year prospect towards
the end.

On June 4, 1982 I spent the afternoon at a friends house, and returned
home about 3:00 to do my paper route.  My father had been in the hospital
for several days, and I knew he was going to have some tests that
afternoon, so I should not have been surprised to find a note from my
mother on the kitchen counter saying something like "Went to see dad,
don't worry, I'll be back for supper" -- a fairly common message.  For
some reason I freaked.  I can't recall any specific thoughts that ran
through my head.  I just "felt" that I had to get to the hospital fast.
There was no rationalle to it, it was just intense emotion.  I called
a sub to deliver the papers, and also called my brother who lived across
town to come get me and bring me to the hospital.  It took some coaxing,
but when I  broke down emotionally, he agreed.  He picked me up and dropped
me off deciding not to go in himself finding no real reason for concern.
Waiting inside, I found my mother in tears and the family priest consoling
her.  My fear was confirmed; my father had died just shortly before on
gerney in the hallway waiting for someone to take him in for tests.

Whammy No. 2: As my mother was somewhat of a wreck, and had to stick
around the hospital to fill out forms or something, the responsibility
of contacting my siblings with the bad news fell on my shoulders.  The
priest took me home and I started dialing, understandably in somewhat
of a daze.  I first called my oldest sister who lived in California,
but when she answered I could not even manage to get out a sound. 
Without missing a beat, she said "it's dad, isn't it?  Something's
wrong".  As freaked as I had been, I was now freaked even more.

As she later told me, she had been out shopping, and when she passed 
a collection of Fathers' Day cards, she got a strong feeling that
something was wrong, and she needed to get home.  The phone was
ringing as she walked in the door, with me on the other end.  The
way she described her ominous feeling was amazing -- it seemed to 
match the irrational, deeply emotional sensation that I had had. 

My family has always considered my sister rather spiritually sensitive.
I think most people would classify her as kooky.  She has some really
interesting ghost stories of her own.  I would not have been surprised
to hear this story coming from her, but I cannot figure out why I,
someone who had never experienced anything unusual before or since
(with one dubious exception) would be sensitive in such a manner.

That's the story as I remember it, but I'm sure time has sensationalized
it somewhat even in my memory.  Even so, makes my mind spin every time
I think of it.

-JS


A
A
from my mom
-- 
--------------------------------------     Jim Spice
And we're off, like a dirty shirt!         U. of Wisconsin -- Milwaukee
		--Lester Earnest Spice     Dept. of Political Science
======================================     spice@convex.csd.uwm.edu