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[caption id="attachment_1945" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Actual Photo from Jerome Grand Hotel. Hocus Pocus or a Ghost? "]<a href="http://www.jeromeghosthunting.com/Ghost%20Hunt%20Photos.htm" target="_blank"><img class="size-medium wp-image-1945 " title="hallway_3" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/hallway_3-300x225.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="225" /></a>[/caption]

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<p>I have really lost my mind this time. </p>

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<p>This Saturday, I am checking into a hotel known as one of the most haunted places on the planet.  I challenged 3 girlfriends to join me, and they are all crazy enough to accept.</p>

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<p>Haunted Destination:  <a href="http://www.jeromegrandhotel.net/" target="_blank"><strong>The Jerome Grand Hotel</strong></a> in Jerome, Arizona. </p>

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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #008000;">"What makes the Jerome Grand Hotel a worthwhile place to stay, is the fact that this is probably one of the most active haunted locations in the world," according to ghostlyfavorites.com. "Due to the high level of activity in the hotel, it is a quite popular destination for amateur ghost hunters."</span></strong></span></p>

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<p>If you go to the hotel website, <a href="http://www.jeromeghosthunting.com/Ghost%20Hunt%20Photos.htm" target="_blank"><strong>you will find photos of misty orbs, ghosts, and even ectoplasm</strong></a><strong>.</strong></p>

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<p><strong>Ectoplasm???</strong></p>

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<p>That was the slime in <em>Ghostbusters</em>, right? </p>

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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #339966;"><strong><span style="color: #008000;">3 of us have seen dead people before.  1 of us is a paranormal virgin.</span></strong></span></span></p>

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<p>Which is why I needed to use this "blog day" to share some back story. </p>

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<p>I lived in a haunted house in New York when I was in 1st and 2nd grade.  I was old enough to etch a very vivid image into my memory banks.  And what is that image, you are wondering?</p>

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<p>The ghost of Mr. Santos.  Although it certainly wasn't the traditional image of a ghostly white apparition. </p>

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<p>One summer night my sister and I were sent to bed early for being naughty.  Since this was New York, at 7:30 ish, it was still light outside. </p>

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<p>My sister and I were talking as I layed on my side and stared out to the hallway.  I saw a shadow of a man wearing what I now know as a fedora hat on the hallway wall.  I felt no fear at the time.  I simply called out, "Daddy?" </p>

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<p>My mom was downstairs dusting and yelled up, "Go to sleep!  Your dad is outside cleaning the pool." </p>

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<p>The shadow then moved away.  In my child's mind, I believed that it was my father's shadow.  Which I now know is an impossibility, as shadows are not cast up two stories and baseball caps are not magically transformed into fedora hats. </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong>It wasn't until we moved to Houston that I learned the identity of the shadow.</strong></span> </span></p>

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<p>My cousins were visiting, and they were talking in hushed tones with my mother about a ghost in the old New York house. </p>

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<p>Mary Elizabeth swore up, down and sideways that she heard the broken player piano play in the basement every time she babysat and entered the kitchen alone to fetch us popcorn and Cokes.  She quickly discovered that when my sister or I went into the kitchen with her, the piano did not play.  </p>

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<p>I distinctly remember Mary Elizabeth asking us to go into the kitchen with her to get the popcorn.  I distinctly remember her resorting to "if you don't come with me, you don't get anymore popcorn".</p>

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<p>Now I started to feel scared.  I told my cousins and my mother about the shadow.  (I was in 4th grade by this time.) </p>

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<p><strong><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #008000;">I also told them about the Wednesdays. </span></span></strong></p>

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<p>On Wednesdays, my mother wasn't always home from her bowling league when the school bus dropped us off.  My friends, Dorothy and Theresa, would wait at the end of my driveway while I knocked on my front door.  If my mom were home, I would wave goodbye to them.  If mom wasn't home, I would walk around the corner with them and stay at Dorothy's house. </p>

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<p>EVERY time my mother wasn't home yet, I would return to them in the driveway while they asked, "Why did you come back?  Your uncle waved at us from the upstairs window." </p>

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<p>I thought that they were just teasing me.  My Uncle Johnny lived in MANHATTAN, and this was Mineola-- a small village on Long Island!!! </p>

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<p>My mother experienced run of the mill ghostly stuff.  Jewelry winding up in different areas of the house.  A ghost sitting on the bed at night when she was home all alone. </p>

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<p>Yep.  My mom was in bed reading a book at bedtime when the mattress creaked and an indentation as though someone was sitting there appeared. </p>

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<p><span style="color: #ff0000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong>Holy Sh#%&amp;balls!!!!  </strong></span></span></p>

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<p>I personally would have grabbed the nearest crucifix and fled from the house screaming like a bat out of hell.  My mother, however, preferred the horror movie route.  She stayed in the house and addressed the ghost. </p>

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<p>"Mr. Santos (she previously found out that he died in the house from a heart attack), I know that you are not trying to scare us.  You are just watching over us.  My mother, Alice, knew you from the Portuguese American Club and always spoke very fondly of you.  (My mother has always had a tendency to go on and on and on...) But I am scared, Mr. Santos.  And I need you to go to the light.  We're o.k.  You don't need to watch over us anymore."</p>

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<p>The indentation disappeared.  </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><strong><span style="font-size: medium;">And nothing ghostly happened after that.   </span></strong></span></p>

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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #008000;"><strong>Until Mom and I found ourselves shopping in Spring, TX circa 2005.</strong></span> </span></p>

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<p>In Spring, quaint old homes are converted into quaint shops filled with knickknacks.  In an effort to escape the clutter of one such shop, I traveled upstairs where the bathrooms and bedrooms displayed lines, vintage clothing, and the like.  Everything was fine until I entered a bedroom where I immediately became dizzy and nauseated.  There was also a terrible musty smell and the feeling of intense "energy".  I escaped the room gasping, "Mom?!  Dad?!"  I was 36 years-old and crying out for my parents. </p>

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<p>Mom and Dad were climbing the stairs at that point and asked what was wrong.  I threw out a nonchalant, "Oh, nothing.  I just think that this place might be haunted."</p>

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<p>"Michelle, don't be ridiculous!  This is a lovely shop!  Larry, look at these linens.  Aren't they gorgeous?"</p>

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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #008000;">My mother then entered THE ROOM.</span></strong></span></p>

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<p>She then nearly knocked my father over trying to get out. </p>

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<p>"LARRY!!!!  Oh, my god!  I feel so sick.  I feel like I'm going to pass out!  I'm so dizzy!!!  THIS PLACE IS HAUNTED!!!" </p>

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<p>My sister and I always rise to the chance to egg my mother on, so I sacrificed myself to reenter the room as she exited. </p>

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<p>"MICHELLE!!!!  GET OUT OF THERE!!!  WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU???  LARRY, TELL HER TO GET OUT OF THERE!!!"</p>

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<p>Dad scolded, "Michelle, why are you purposely upsetting your mother?"</p>

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<p>Do you turn into a 5 year-old when you return home for visits?  heh heh heh</p>

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<p>The joke turned out to be on me when I felt even sicker the 2nd time around. </p>

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<p>Anywho, as we left the shop, my mother said, "Wait a minute".  She went back in and marched up to the counter.  She used her calmest, sweetest voice to ask the shopkeeper, "Excuse me, but is this place haunted?"</p>

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<p>The shopkeeper smiled and asked, "Did you SEE her?"</p>

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<p>No.  BUT WE SMELLED HER!!!</p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong>And that's when we were told of the resident ghost of the teenager who died in the upstairs bedroom.</strong></span></span> </p>

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<p>Since teens didn't have much in the way of entertainment back in the homestead days, they jumped off the barn roofs for kicks.  I don't remember her name, so let's say "Lucy" broke her leg and convalesced in the upstairs bedroom where she died of gangrene.  Thus the incredible stench that made mom and I want to puke. </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong>And then there was the time when I stayed at the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver, BC.</strong></span> </span></p>

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<p>While setting my suitcases on the bed, I had a sense.  A 6th sense.  Nothing perceptible, but I wasn't about to tolerate any funny business. </p>

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<p><strong><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #008000;">Like a crazy women, I announced out loud, "I don't want to see you.  I don't want to smell you.  I don't want any part of you.  STAY AWAY.  GO TO THE BLOODY LIGHT!!!!" </span></span></strong></p>

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<p>A friend picked me up for dinner, and on the drive back to the hotel, I asked, "Can I ask you a crazy question?  Is the Sylvia Hotel haunted?" </p>

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<p>My friend burst out laughing.  "Why of course, Michelle!!!  That's why people stay there!  They hope to experience something!" </p>

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<p>He slept in the other room that night.  (It was a weird little hotel room comprised of 3 separate rooms.)  There was no way I was sleeping in there by myself.  I popped a sleeping pill and slept with earplugs and an eye mask. </p>

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<p>Thankfully, no funny business to report. </p>

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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #008000;"><strong>So there you have it.  Jerome Ghosthunter #1 has seen and taken a whiff of dead people.</strong> </span></span></p>

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<p>I introduce to you to Ghosthunter #2, Christy Jo.   She posed for a photo in Mexico with a Mexican ghost, so it seems.  If you look closely, smack in the middle of the girls you'll see the bottom of his face including his moustache!!!</p>

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<p><a href="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/mexicanghost.bmp"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-1948" title="mexicanghost" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/mexicanghost.bmp" alt="" /></a></p>

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<p>Ghosthunter #3 is none other than the lovely and talented Rebecca aka Becky Jo (her actual birthname which she legally changed, bless her). </p>

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<p>Becky Jo sees dead peeps frequently.  IN HER CURRENT ABODE!!!!  Now, let me preface this by saying that Becky Jo is one of the most intelligent and "together" women I know.  i.e. She's not a loony tune. </p>

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<p>Becky Jo routinely encounters a guy in a 70s tuxedo sitting on her stairs.  This isn't an actual photo, but I once posted this on her Facebook wall to freak her out. </p>

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<p><a href="http://arniesvintagecostumers.com"><img title="bluetux" src="http://www.diaryofalatebloomer.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/bluetux-129x300.jpg" alt="" width="129" height="300" /></a></p>

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<p>Ghosthunter #4 is Sarah, our token Paranormal Virgin.  She is a valuable asset to our team, as she doesn't have "the sense".  So, if something happens to Sarah, then we are all officially ghost magnets.  </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong>With our good looks and personalities, we will surely sign lucrative contracts for our own TV show. </strong></span></span></p>

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<p>On Saturday, we start this escapade fully equipped. </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong>I am not making this up:  Apple has a ghosthunting app. </strong></span></span></p>

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<p>???</p>

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<p>Becky Jo has already installed it on her iPhone, and Christy Jo has back-up on the iPad.   </p>

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<p><span style="color: #339966;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #008000;">From an actual email correspondence between Christy Jo and Michelle:</span></strong></span></span></p>

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<p><strong>CJ:</strong>  Apparently there is a spirit in my house. According to the iPad app, it just said my brother’s name, Marc. This thing is creeping me out!</p>

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<p><strong>Michelle:</strong>  Bwhahahahahahahaha!!!  I don't want that thing near my house!!  :-)</p>

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<p><strong>CJ:</strong>  According to Yahoo, EMF meters or any other devices really don’t work. Electromagnetic fields are everywhere and are not good indicators of paranormal activity. “Serious investigators do not use gadgets,” one website says. “Most often they use Patron.”</p>

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<p><strong>Michelle:</strong>  I have heard that as well. </p>

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<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #ff0000;">Countdown:  3 days until the Ghosthunting begins!  </span></span></strong></span></span></p>

<p><span style="color: #008000;"><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #ff0000;"> </span></span></strong></span></span></p>