I have news! Good news! I’ve just found out that Days of the Dead: A Year of True Ghost Stories has won First Place in the Bookfest Awards. How about that? And you can go here to get your very own copy, if you haven’t already: https://bookshop.org/…/days-of-the-dead-a…/9781735668987
Starting now through Monday, Bookshop is offering FREE SHIPPING on all orders placed through our website with standard mail. No special code needed. It’s the perfect opportunity to shop for everyone on your list and support independent bookstores at the same time! The savings go through Cyber Monday, so spend a few minutes this weekend browsing for Christmas presents.
And speaking of Christmas, did you know that Bookshop will wrap your presents for you? They’re now offering gift wrapping with cards and custom messages for purchases on Bookshop, which will make shipping your presents fast and easy this holiday season. Just select “this is a gift” during checkout.
I’m always happy to see bees working my flowers, even if they aren’t honeybees. Here’s a couple of native pollinators enjoying the gifts of the sunflower right outside my back door. One is gathering pollen the traditional way, and the other is cheating a bit by getting the stuff that has fallen on the leaf below the bloom. Go bees go!
So you’re stuck at home. It’s the perfect time to learn something new, wouldn’t you say? How about home-made soda? Okay, so it’s not Dr Pepper, but it’s yours, made with your own two hands. How cool is that?
Today we’re making Dandelion Fizz. First, go out in your yard and pick some dandelions.
The recipe calls for two cups of blooms, and you’re going to want to clean the green off of the flowers. Trust me, you do not want ANY green; it will make the soda bitter and undrinkable.
The best way to do this is to take the bloom between your fingers, use your thumbnail to snap the green base of the bloom in half, then use the nail on your other thumb to cut the yellow away from the green.
After a while, you’ll have a bowl full of lovely yellow petals. (Since dandelions fade so quickly after picking, you may want to pick half at a time, clean them, then go back for the rest. The blooms get harder to clean the longer they sit.)
When you’ve got the flowers all cleaned, bring the water to a boil, then pour the boiling water over the flowers in a primary fermenter (a big food-safe plastic container, or a stainless-steel pot).
Let this stand twelve hours (overnight is good). Strain, then add sugar and sliced lemon. Heat just until sugar dissolves — it doesn’t need to boil. Bottle and let cool.
I like to use a plastic bottle for this — not because it’s plastic, but because when the sides of the bottle get rigid, to where you can’t squeeze the bottle, that means the soda’s fizzy and ready to drink. Are you ready to try this? Here’s the recipe!
Dandelion Fizz. 5 cups dandelion flowers, cleaned, 4 1/2 quarts water, 4 cups sugar, 2 lemons, sliced with peel. Bring water to the boil. Pour over flowers in primary fermenter (I just boil the water in a 2 gallon stainless steel canning pot, then put the flowers in. Same diff.) Let stand twelve hours. Strain, then heat dandelion water gently with sugar and lemon. Heat just until sugar dissolves — do not boil. Bottle and let cool. Cap and store in a cool dry place three to four weeks. Then the fizz will be ready to drink, and should be stored in the fridge. Keeps three to four months.
Before Fiorello LaGuardia became a popular mayor of New York City in 1933, he was a judge. One day he presided over the case of a poor man who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed his family.
LaGuardia stated that by law the man should be fined $10. Then he paid the fine himself, adding, “I’m going to fine everyone in this court 50 cents each for living in a town where a man has to steal bread in order to eat.” He had the bailiff collect the fines — and give them to the defendant.
It’s time for another episode of Lights Out! If you’re stuck at home, why not enjoy a tour of this haunted museum in St. Joseph, Missouri? St. Joseph is known for two things: the beginning of the Pony Express, and the end of Jesse James. And the Patee House has connections to both of these historical events. Come explore this unique museum, and meet its resident ghost, Henry Corbett. https://youtu.be/-KPW8QBUoWc
There are more libraries in America than there are McDonald’s. And as of 2019, there are more libraries in America than Starbucks. (From Writer’s Digest, September 2019.)
Here’s another episode of Lights Out for your entertainment! Antique stores can be very haunted places, just by being the repositories of bunches upon bunches of family heirlooms. Come visit an extraordinarily haunted store with me; the Volo Antique Mall. Featured on Discovery Channel’s Ghost Lab, this sprawling complex houses over 400 classic cars, thousands of antiques — and a few spirits. https://youtu.be/8nvVr2mfp3E
Reindeer lick up urine puddles to get salt in icy environments. Some reindeer herders in Siberia pee on the ground to attract their reindeer to come closer.
We hear a lot around Thanksgiving about how the Indians really got a raw deal when the Europeans came over to the New World, and yeah, it’s true. The Wampanoag shared the first Thanksgiving feast with the Pilgrims — and provided most of the food — and less than a generation later, were embroiled in King Philip’s War and getting the worst of it. And that pattern, of Native Americans getting shafted by the immigrant Europeans, continued throughout our American history.
But I was delighted to discover, a while ago, that one of my own ancestors, a fellow named Silas Soule, made it a habit to stand up for the rights of Native Americans. Born in Woolwich, Maine on July 26, 1838, he was also an abolitionist. The Soule family was friends with John Brown, and the Soule house was a stop on the Underground Railroad.
Members of the Soule family read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and were inspired by the tale. Silas’ sister Annie was convinced that it was this inspiration that led her father, Amasa, to move the family from Maine to Kansas to help make Kansas a free state. In November 1854, Amasa and his oldest son William arrived in Lawrence, Kansas, and staked a claim at nearby Coal Creek. The next fall, Mrs. Soule and the rest of the children (Silas, age 17, Emily, age 15, and Annie, age 13) came to join Amasa and William. Soon after this, the young people of Coal Creek decided they needed some fun, so they founded the Coal Creek Social Library Association. They met every two weeks in someone’s home for games, socialization, and reading, and they collected money to found to Coal Creek Library, which still exists today. So one of my ancestors started a library. How about that?
But that’s not Silas Soule’s only claim to fame and remembrance. He followed his brother William to Colorado to work in the gold fields, and when the Civil War broke out, he joined up. The war started in the spring of 1861, and by December, Silas had joined the First Colorado Volunteer Infantry, and later became cavalry. He rose through the ranks, ending up as captain. He was appointed commander of Company D of the First Colorado Cavalry, which was stationed at Fort Lyon in southeast Colorado.
Over the summer, there had been issues with Indian raids. That fall, Silas was present at a conference between chiefs of the Cheyenne and Arapaho, and Governor Evans and Col. Chivington. In September 1864, Captain Soule and Major Edward Wynkoop participated in the Smoky Hill peace talks with Chiefs from the Cheyenne and Arapaho nations. The peace party met with the Governor and Superintendent of Indian Affairs John Evans and Colonel John Chivington in Denver. Silas’s presence at both of these important peace meetings reinforced his personal beliefs. The talks gave Silas a deep respect for the Native American nations and hope for a peaceful resolution. The Indians believed they had made peace and were camped on Sand Creek several miles from Ft. Lyon, when, on the morning of Nov. 29, 1864, Col. Chivington, with elements of the First and Third Colorado Cavalry, attacked. Some of the officers joined him, but Soule did not. As soon as Soule learned of the plan, he went to a room where some officers were assembled and told them that any man who would take part in the murders was “a low lived cowardly son of a bitch.”
Silas, knowing that the Indians were peaceful, refused to give his company the order to fire on them. But in spite of Silas’s courage, the Sand Creek Massacre was one of the blackest episodes in American history. At dawn on November 29, 1864, approximately 675 U.S. soldiers commanded by Chivington attacked a village of about 750 Cheyenne and Arapaho men, women and children along Sand Creek in southeastern Colorado Territory. Using carbines, pistols and cannon fire, the troops drove the people out of their camp.
Some managed to escape the initial onslaught. Some women, children, and the elderly fled to the bottom of a dry stream bed. The soldiers followed, shooting at them as they struggled to escape death. Women and children frantically scraped at the sandy earth along the sides of the streambed to protect themselves.
Over the course of eight hours, the troops killed over 230 Cheyenne and Arapaho people composed mostly of women, children, and the elderly. That afternoon and following day, soldiers mutilated the dead before departing on December 1.
Silas and most of the other officers at Fort Lyon were appalled. Silas and Lieutenant Cramer wrote letters to their former commander, Major Edward “Ned” Wynkoop. The letters condemned the leadership of Colonel Chivington who ordered the attack. These letters led to investigations by the Army and two congressional committees. The Army’s investigation began in January 1865, and Silas was the first to testify against John Chivington. Chivington was brought before a US Army court-martial. Following the investigations, an Army commission changed history’s judgment of Sand Creek from a battle to a massacre of men, women, and children.
Chivington was condemned for his actions, but not punished. He resigned from the Army in February 1865. He died penniless in 1894.
After this, Soule returned to civilian life. He moved to Denver, and on April 1, 1865, he married Hersa A. Coberly. But the honeymoon was to be cut tragically short. On April 23, less than three months after testifying at Chivington’s court-martial, Silas was gunned down in the streets of Denver. His murderer was Charles Squier, a soldier who was loyal to Chivington. Squier was never brought to justice.
On this Thanksgiving Day, I’m really proud to say that I’m related to Silas Soule, a man who stood up for what he believed was right, even though it cost him his life. And how are we related, you ask? Well, Silas’s ancestor was George Soule, who came over on the Mayflower, and who shared that first Thanksgiving feast with the Wampanoag. And George is MY ancestor too.
Silas Stillwell Soule. A stand-up guy, and a relative of mine.
I’m one of those people who enjoy wandering around cemeteries. In particular, I love seeing how people choose to remember their loved ones, both in the stones they choose and in the more ephemeral decorations they leave at the grave site. Most of these tributes are wonderfully touching.
Mount Carmel Cemetery, October 2019
Archer Woods Cemetery, October 2018
But sometimes, the artwork sends … a different message.
As I wandered around Mount Carmel cemetery a few weeks ago, I noticed a beautiful little mausoleum near the end of the row.
If you walk closer, and peer inside the tomb, you can see a gorgeous piece of stained glass artwork at the back of the structure — a picture of Jesus as the Lamb of God.
I walked around the mausoleum, and discovered to my horrified delight that if you look at it from the opposite direction … it looks like Jesus has landed Himself in the slammer.
My husband is a complete skeptic. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, or things that go bump in the night. He doesn’t even believe in an afterlife.
But he loves me, and that’s what counts. And because he loves me, he got me a present during his last trip to Goodwill.
That’s right … my dear, sweet, loving husband bought his ghost-hunter wife a Ouija board. It appears to be a Parker Brothers throwback from the mid-1980s, with suggested questions on the box like “Will I star in my own music video?” and “Does Taylor like me?”
Oh, and it glows in the dark. 😀 (So, his reasoning went, I can use it on investigations even if we’re lights-out. Good thinking, love.)
I know my friends are going to be, in about equal measures, intrigued and appalled that I now own a Ouija board of my very own. (I myself am intrigued and appalled in about equal measures.)
So the other day, at the library, I was checking books in, and I came across a book by a doctor who had clinically died, visited the afterlife, and come back to tell the tale. My first thought was, hey cool, here we have an actual sciencey-type person who can back up our theories on the afterlife. That’s great!
And then, I thought, why do we NEED someone to back up our theories? I mean, I personally believe in an afterlife. I know many people do not, and that’s their own business. I happen to believe in an afterlife the same way I believe that if I drop an apple on the floor, it’s going to fall down, and not float off sideways.
But WHY do I believe this? Why do I, and sooooo many other people, believe that death is not the end? Just to play devil’s advocate here for a second, evidence of the paranormal can be faked. Pictures can be faked. Ghost voices can be faked. I can sit here and tell you that I saw a full-body apparition in my bedroom. You may believe me, you may not. But you only have my word for it. Am I telling the truth? Or am I making up stories to get attention? (Full disclosure, in case anyone’s keeping score: I have never ever ever faked evidence. Any story I tell, is true as far as I experienced it.)
Here’s the thing my mind dropped on me as I looked at the book by the scientist: maybe we believe in an afterlife because we have evolved to believe in an afterlife. In the same way we are unique on earth in having opposable thumbs, and we cry with emotion, and we’ve developed religion, maybe we have ghosts because we have evolved to have ghosts. Maybe the human spirit is SO unique and SO powerful, some of that psychic residue sort of hangs around after that particular organism has died. And sometimes, the lucky ones among those that are left behind can see or hear or sense that psychic residue.
Okay, guys, this may just be the nuttiest TIL yet. Here goes: You know how animators usually draw four fingers on the hands of cartoon characters, because if you draw five, it just looks … kind of weird? The Simpsons is incredibly popular all over the world — except in Japan. That’s because to swear loyalty to the mob, Yakuza members amputate their pinkie finger. So, having only four fingers implies that you’re in the Japanese Mafia. (From Springfield Confidential, by Mike Reiss)
Since they live in the hot, dry environment of the African savannah, giraffes are so good at conserving water that their pee is concentrated. It comes out as a gel, about the consistency of honey. (From Whatever You Do, Don’t Run: True Tales of a Botswana Safari Guide, by Peter Allison.)
I’ve got some very cool news to share! First of all, I found out from my good friend and colleague Ron Hood that his show, Ron’s Amazing Stories (which includes the monthly installment of Ghost Stories With Sylvia) is now sponsored by Audible. That’s really great news, because now, when you listen to Ron’s show and click on the Audible link to get a free trial, the show gets a bit of coin, and you get to keep listening to this fabulous show for FREE. (You can listen to this podcast on Thursdays at Ron’s Amazing Stories, download it from iTunes, stream it on Stitcher Radio or on the mobile version of Spotify. Do you prefer the radio? They are heard every Sunday Night at 8:00 PM (PST) on AMFM247.COM.)
And the second part of the very cool news is that one of my books, 44 Years in Darkness, is now available on … Audible! So if you wanted to do the whole “two birds, one stone” thing, you could listen to Ron’s show, get yourself a free trial, and — ta-dah! — listen to the incredible story of Rhoda Derry, one of the patients at the Peoria State Hospital. (The publisher told me that the narrator was in tears several times as she was reading it. It’s that good.)
So go! Check out Ron’s show — the next Ghost Stories With Sylvia will air on July 4, BTW — and while you’re there, support the show by giving Audible a try. And while you’re at Audible, check out 44 Years in Darkness. See? Circle of life, baby.
In World War II, US heavy bomber pilots would make ice cream by strapping buckets of ice cream mix to their planes before missions. The cold and turbulence of the flight would churn the mix into ice cream, and by the time they landed, it would be done.
Here’s the rest of the story. During World War II on the island of Peleliu, a Marine squadron was getting really, really bored waiting for the Japanese to come out and fight. So what do you do when you’re bored and there’s no enemy action? You make chocolate ice cream. Naturally. According to Air and Space Magazine, “(Squadron commander) Reinburg, determined to raise morale on a humid tropical island with no fresh food and no refrigeration, had a plan. His maintenance crew cut the ends off an old belly-mounted drop tank, strung wire at both ends, and mounted an access panel to the side. Into this panel, secured by the wires, went a waterproof can that ordinarily stored .50-caliber bullets. And into that, the mess sergeant poured a mixture of canned milk and cocoa powder. Reinburg planned to ascend to high altitudes, where temperatures are well below freezing, and return with a gift for his men: five gallons of homemade chocolate ice cream.”
On the first flight, the ice cream didn’t freeze properly, as it was too close to the hot engine of the Corsair. For the second flight, they mounted two cans in a different place (which also, happily, doubled the amount of ice cream to ten gallons). This ice cream froze nicely, but it just wasn’t as smooth as the commander would have liked. (The men ate it anyway.)
On the third flight, the maintenance crew stuck a propeller in each of the ammo cans, to churn the ice cream. This time, it came out perfectly. Many B-17s used this setup on combat missions, and P-47s were also used in various theaters.
Base Commander Colonel Caleb Bailey called the squadron and told them he knew exactly what they were up to. “Listen, goddamnit, you guys aren’t fooling me. I’ve got spies. You tell [Reinburg] I’m coming over there tomorrow and get my ration.”
Donnie Dunagan joined the Marines when he was 18, did three tours of duty in Vietnam, won a Bronze Star and three Purple Hearts, and finally returned as a major. Yet in his 20-plus year military career, he never told anyone about his connection to one of Hollywood’s quintessential tearjerkers. When he was six years old, Dunagan was the voice of Disney’s young Bambi. (from theguardian.com)
So you know how I’ve been teasing you guys for the past several weeks with pictures of word counts-in-progress? Well, I’m happy to say there’s a reason for that.
Fractured Souls: More Hauntings at the Peoria State Hospital, is finished! And it’s great! Just like Fractured Spirits, it will have links to fun audio and video evidence. And there’s more: Fractured Souls includes a tour of the hilltop, so you can drive around (or walk, it’s small enough) and see where these haunted buildings are, or where they used to be back in the day.
I don’t yet have a release date, but as soon as I do, I’ll let you all know. And no, this isn’t an April Fool’s joke, I promise! There’s another book about the spirits of the Peoria State Hospital, coming soon!
What does your shopping list look like? Tomato soup, milk, eggs, Twizzlers … ghosts?
A grocery store in Massachusetts seems to have something extra on offer next to the piles of oranges and the deli counter. Shoppers at Market Basket in Wilmington have seen a young woman with light skin, dark hair, and blue eyes wandering the aisles. And oh yeah … she’s wearing Victorian clothing. And another oh yeah … sometimes she simply disappears.
You guys know I have a soft spot for abandoned mental hospitals. Well, here’s one in Michigan that seems to be a bit spookier than my beloved Peoria State Hospital.
Apparently, the basement of Eloise Psychiatric Hospital in Westland, Michigan, has recently been drained after being flooded for years. (I can’t even imagine what that has done to the foundation. Yeesh.) Anyway, this hospital is considered one of the most haunted places in Michigan. Jeff Adkins, of Detroit Paranormal Expeditions, got to explore the basement, and he calls it the most eerily quiet place he’s ever been.
The recipe calls for two cups of blooms, and you’re going to want to clean the green off of the flowers. Trust me, you do not want ANY green; it will make the soda bitter and undrinkable.
Sylvia Shults, author 