Our Spirited Uncle 1990

Many years ago – probably 100 – an elderly man whose name was Ed Cochran lived upstairs in this house.  All of us who’ve grown up here know about “Uncle Ed”, but we just go on and think nothing of it.  We’re not afraid of “Uncle Ed”, our resident ghost, he’s family.

Ed Cochran lived here before Byron and Sis (my half brother and half sister) and they were teenagers when I was born – so you see it’s been a while.  When we started the tearing out and renovating of this house, Byron cautioned us more than once to watch for money.  It was believed that Ed Cochran had money; however, as is our luck we found none.  Why Mr. Cochran lived upstairs no living person knows, but it is thought that perhaps he helped with the farming operation – albeit small.  Maybe he had no family or no place to live and needed a roof over his head.

Anyway many times strange things have happened around here and it’s always blamed on “Uncle Ed”.  We’ve laughed many times about our Georgia friend, who came to spend the night, and our guest room is the one that used to the “sitting room” for our family.  It has a fireplace and is located on the north side of the house – making it a little darker.  Anyway when Evelyn went to bed that night she left the door slightly ajar and in the wee hours of the night she was awakened by the door being opened wide.  Needless to say, she left the room and went to the couch to spend the remainder of the night.  She came to spend the night many times after that, but never slept in the guest room.  We told her repeatedly that “Uncle Ed” wouldn’t hurt her, but she never believed.

Another time, John and I were here alone at night and had just gone to bed.  The commode in the guest bathroom flushed – only then did we know that “Uncle Ed” knew how to use indoor plumbing.  When John told that story to a gathering of men in Geraldine, one man asked: “And you still live there?”

Maybe it’s worth noting that I don’t believe in goblins, witches or sorcerers, but John was programmed early on about ghosts.  Grandma Crumly would gather the little ones around her at night and tell them about ghosts.  She lived in the Ophir community – just north of Geraldine – and told the children about a man in a white suit that lived in the barn loft.  He would let the well bucket down in the well in the middle of the night and draw water.  The bucket was attached to a chain and they could hear the chain rattle as the bucket was lowered in the well.  So John is well acquainted with ghosts.  I’ve mentioned in this article before about Grandma Crumly – they had to ford Reedy Creek, near Ophir where she lived – and the children would be riding in the back of the wagon with their feet hanging out.  As they approached the creek she would have them get their feet up in the wagon bed saying, “Old Rawhead and Bloody Bones will get you if you don’t.”

Isn’t it interesting what sick people remember?  Or well people, for that matter. Recently we visited John’s cousin who is well advanced with Parkinson’s Disease and she had been one of the cousins who pulled their feet up in the wagon.  John reminded her of that and she didn’t remember until he asked if she didn’t remember “Ole Major”. At that point she smiled and said, “I remember Ole Major.”  Major was Grandma’s horse.

I needed a ghost or somebody to help recently when we visited a wonderful garden. I was unable to do the walk through and stayed in a lovely garden house while the others enjoyed their walk.  It was hot and on the counter there set a beautiful 2 gallon container of lemonade.  Now to get the lemonade out a little screw-like hickey had to be turned and I’ve never been able to understand which way you turn a screw to tighten it or loosen it.  Well I turned and turned – going both ways at various times and finally I got a trickle to come out the tiny opening.  I held my cup with one hand and removed the lid with the other, thinking that would speed up the operation, but to no avail.  Then I decided I would turn the screw some more.  What a mistake – the whole thing fell out in my cup and the lemonade was now flowing from two openings and my cup was almost full. I sat my cup up on the counter and grabbed another one as I frantically tried to get the screw thing started back in the opening.  What a mess! I filled up cup after cup and then decided to pick the whole thing up and head for the sink, which is what I did. Of course, during the changing of cups, lemonade fell to the floor.  Finally, I got the screw back in its place and about that time the walking party arrived to help. Lots of laughing went on with the telling of my story, but such is life with good friends and our style of country living.