When I was 11 years old, my parents bought a house on the west side of Chicago in an area known as Austin. There was once a town there that got gobbled up by the city as it grew west. It was the coolest place I ever lived, and to this day, when I dream of home, I dream of this place (just happened last night).
We lived there about 5 years, and in that time enough weird stuff took place to fill a book. I will try to stick with the little things that happened on my watch. But let's begin the Beguine.
My grandparents lived in apartments my father had built for them in the basement (like Chinese people, 3 generations, one roof!). My grandfather would work late at Walgreens and come home after 10pm pretty often. Well, my dad fell asleep watching TV and awoke to hear/see what he thought was Granddad coming in from work. Helloing him, he got no reply, so he walked back to the kitchen to ask my mother about it. She pointed at the clock and indicated her father had been home almost an hour, and had entered through their door in the back, and not our front door. hmmm, "than who was that guy I just saw walk through the house?" First odd.
My grandparents began to complain about noise late at night coming from the living room above their apartment like furniture being dragged around. This was after everyone had gone to bed.
Alright, I did say I would talk about personal experiences. How about waking up to heavy breathing in your dark bedroom? I was a rational young man, all of 12 by this time. So I got out of bed to locate the source. Standing in the middle of the room, I could hear it in the corner. Creeping over to that corner, it faded and started up in the opposite corner. Repeatedly. Finally, back to bed, laying still, the bed would begin to shake, like those 25 cent magic fingers they had in cheap motels(?!). That happened so much I use to call it my free "magic fingers" and talk about all the quarters I was saving.
As you can tell, I never felt threatened, it didn't seem like evil was going on, just restless entities or something. Most of the time I was laughing. Especially when it effected my friends. They would be freaking out and I would be laughing at their reaction to things. Here's a good one:
Part of the basement was a large laundry room, and regularly my granny would be in there doing wash in the afternoon. Well, my friend Howie and I were coming down the steps to that room when we heard clearly a sound that he thought was the radio. It could have been Nancy Sinatra's follow up hit to "Boots" but it wasn't the guitar lick for "How Does That Grab You Darlin'", it wasn't anything at all. We got to the bottom of the stairs it was closed up, pitch black. Howie turned to me and asked "where's your grandmother?". I replied "In Mississippi for 2 weeks". He asked "where is the radio that made that sound?" "Do you see a radio?"
Realizing what he took for a guitar lick was a loud sigh, Howie bolted out the door for home without looking back.
After leaving Chicago for many years, I took my wife to see where I had grown up, worked, schooled, etc. This was 1983. We got to Parkside and found the block had been leveled flat. Everything was torn down and halled away. Except. You guessed it 215 stood out spared from destruction. Wait, one more thing.
In 2010 my son visited the windy city, went to my old neighborhood. It bears no resemblance to where I grew up (didn't in 1984). All new neighborhood, but one thing remained the same: 215 Parkside continues to stand.
We lived there about 5 years, and in that time enough weird stuff took place to fill a book. I will try to stick with the little things that happened on my watch. But let's begin the Beguine.
My grandparents lived in apartments my father had built for them in the basement (like Chinese people, 3 generations, one roof!). My grandfather would work late at Walgreens and come home after 10pm pretty often. Well, my dad fell asleep watching TV and awoke to hear/see what he thought was Granddad coming in from work. Helloing him, he got no reply, so he walked back to the kitchen to ask my mother about it. She pointed at the clock and indicated her father had been home almost an hour, and had entered through their door in the back, and not our front door. hmmm, "than who was that guy I just saw walk through the house?" First odd.
My grandparents began to complain about noise late at night coming from the living room above their apartment like furniture being dragged around. This was after everyone had gone to bed.
Alright, I did say I would talk about personal experiences. How about waking up to heavy breathing in your dark bedroom? I was a rational young man, all of 12 by this time. So I got out of bed to locate the source. Standing in the middle of the room, I could hear it in the corner. Creeping over to that corner, it faded and started up in the opposite corner. Repeatedly. Finally, back to bed, laying still, the bed would begin to shake, like those 25 cent magic fingers they had in cheap motels(?!). That happened so much I use to call it my free "magic fingers" and talk about all the quarters I was saving.
As you can tell, I never felt threatened, it didn't seem like evil was going on, just restless entities or something. Most of the time I was laughing. Especially when it effected my friends. They would be freaking out and I would be laughing at their reaction to things. Here's a good one:
Part of the basement was a large laundry room, and regularly my granny would be in there doing wash in the afternoon. Well, my friend Howie and I were coming down the steps to that room when we heard clearly a sound that he thought was the radio. It could have been Nancy Sinatra's follow up hit to "Boots" but it wasn't the guitar lick for "How Does That Grab You Darlin'", it wasn't anything at all. We got to the bottom of the stairs it was closed up, pitch black. Howie turned to me and asked "where's your grandmother?". I replied "In Mississippi for 2 weeks". He asked "where is the radio that made that sound?" "Do you see a radio?"
Realizing what he took for a guitar lick was a loud sigh, Howie bolted out the door for home without looking back.
After leaving Chicago for many years, I took my wife to see where I had grown up, worked, schooled, etc. This was 1983. We got to Parkside and found the block had been leveled flat. Everything was torn down and halled away. Except. You guessed it 215 stood out spared from destruction. Wait, one more thing.
