A Real Ghost Story?

When we were dismantling the circa 1895 barn, which Stanley Johelin's family
had built and preserved until it turned out to be exactly where his wife's new
gold fish pond needed to be, I had a paranormal experience (actually two).

This was the fall of 1993 and we had parked our 1973 Winnebago next to Stan's
(soon to be ours) barn so we could come up on the weekends and work without
driving the 200 mile round trip more than once. We were provided a place to
plug in, which made it nice for relaxing while making dinner and listening to
NPR in the evenings. However, this didn't do us much good for cleaning up
after a day's barn stripping, since I had long ago ripped out the leaky
plumbing and malfunctioning (constantly) water heater. Laura appealed to Stan
for access to facilities for washing up.

We must have looked like pretty dangerous gypsies, but Stan was kind enough to
let us borrow a garage door controller so we could get to the hot and cold
spigot in the garage. Not exactly a hot shower, but it worked. Stan also
provided us with a porta john, so our needs were met.

The barn had several doors on all four sides, which made it nice for letting
in sunlight, as well as removing salvaged pieces from the mangers, stalls and
granary. The first occurrence took place while I was inside the barn alone
working on removing parts of the grain shoot. As I was removing nails in a
board, I tuned to place them in the nail bucket, and noticed someone standing
in one of the outside doorways which led to the horse stalls. It was one of
those "unexpectedly noticed over the shoulder while working" kind of things,
so I dropped the nails into the bucket and turned to see who it was. The
doorway was empty. I walked over to it and looked out at no one.

That evening I asked Laura if it had been her in the door. She knew it wasn't
her, but decided it would be best not to mention it to the already
apprehensive Mr. and Mrs. Stan.

The next weekend it was time to begin stripping the roof and we had brought in
extra help. I was working inside once again, and had taken the responsibility
of making sure no one used the doorways on the side of the barn were materials
were being thrown into the dumpster. While turning to place a granary board on
the stack I again saw someone in the same doorway. This visual was much more
complete and the silhouette was unmistakably that of a man with broad
shoulders. Kind of that triangular shape used in charicatures in some of the
jokes in the old Playboys my dad kept hidden in his night stand. I turned to
tell them that the doorway wasn't safe to use and again it was empty. Walking
over and looking out resulted in the same empty view as before.

The next weekend was time to dismantle the timber frame. We had lowered the
bents to the ground and stacked them next the old stall area. I was driving
out trunnels and Laura was pulling nails. I heard her scream (the kind she
does when she sees a snake) and came over to make sure she was okay. The
shriek was one of delight. Under an old cedar shingle, nailed to the post that
framed the doorway in which my visitor had stood, was a piece of linen with a
message on it. It was very carefully scripted with interesting symbols, and
not one word of English.

Soon Stan was out among the timbers interested in what we had discovered. He
was so excited by the note, he asked if he could take it to his Norwegian
friends and family to see what it might say. He asked if we had found anything
else and I blurted out the story of my visitor. Apparently not very interested
in my tale he left on his quest.

That evening we were invited into the Johelin home for the first time. Stan
hadn't had any luck deciphering the note, but the table was covered with scrap
books and old family pictures. I was asked to look carefully and see if I
could identify just who I had seen in the doorway. It turned out Stan and his
wife were arguing over just who's spirit (relative) had been living in their
barn! After perusing several scrap books I saw a picture of Stan's grandfather
Albert. He was standing by a lake shore and wearing a black jacket with padded
shoulders. A very stately triangle of a man, and without question my visitor.

We like to think Albert was happy to see his barn saved from it's apparent
destiny, and hope he has been enjoying it since it's resurrection here on our
homestead.

Ro-o-o-o-ody