The Scotia independent

OCTOBER 25, 2013 WWW.TOWNOFSCOTIA.COM VOLUME I, ISSUE XVI

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A VERY SCOTIA GHOST STORY Frank

Talk

with Frank!

Happy Hal loween every-one! There is a ch i l l in the a ir , the days are shorter and the shadows are length-ening . We are days away from Al l Hal lows Eve, the year ly ce lebrat ion der ived from Celt ic harvest fest iva ls and dedicated to remember-i n g t h e d e a d , i n c l u d i n g s a i n t s , s i n n e r s , m a r t y r s , monsters and a l l the fa i th fu l departed. Typica l Hal loween fes-t i v i t i e s i n c l ude t r i c k -o r -treat ing , attending costume part ies , decorat ing , carv ing p u m p k i n s i n t o j a c k - o ’ -lanterns , apple bobbing , v i s -i t ing haunted at tract ions , t e l l i n g s c a r y s t o r i e s o r watching horror f i lms . Be sure to check out th is ed i -t ion’s story about our own haunted attract ion from our guest author and contr ibu-tor L isa Baney. M y H a l l o w e e n o f t e n seems to involve a bonf ire , campf i re or maybe just an open f i re in the f i replace .

around, knock th is th ing out in an a f ternoon. Just don’t expect me to actua l ly be l ieve th is stu f f .

* So I s tart with Google and search “Frank the ghost .” Disappoint ing ly , noth ing comes up about the Scot ia Inn Frank , but I ’m fasc inated to learn that Frank S inatra i s haunt ing the Riv iera Hotel in Las Ve-

by Lisa Baney I should say at the get-go here that I don’ t be l ieve in ghosts . I t ’ s not that I don’t th ink there are unex-pla ined th ings in the world—I do. But the not ion that the dear ly departed don’t have anyth ing better to do than to hang out and harass , scare ha l f to death or otherwise annoy those of us st i l l fortunate enough to have actua l bod-ies just doesn’t work for me. I mean, what ’ s in i t for them? So when the edi -tor of th is news-letter emai led me a few weeks ago and asked, “How about a seasonal p iece on Frank, the ghost at the Sco-t ia Inn?” I thought , OK, sure , th is would be an easy one . I ’d go onl ine for some spooky facts , drop into the Inn and grab some quotes of f some laminated in format ion sheets they proba-b ly have ly ing

Continued to “Ghosts,” page 2

Pro baseball pitching coach Randy Niemann recently visited Scotia Ele-mentary to talk about his long career in Major League Baseball as both a player and a coach. Randy was born in Scotia and grew up in Fortuna. He currently works for the St. Louis Cardinals. Randy is pictured with his great-nephews, Scotia Elementary students Christopher Rexford, R.J. Rexford, and Dustin Rexford.

Scotia Superintendent/Principal Ronan Collver has been sporting a new look courtesy of Amy Gossien's 7th grade class at Stanwood School. This hardworking group of students won a school-wide reading contest that earned them the honor of cutting Mr. Collver's hair into a style of their choice. Six million words later, they gave him a mohawk. Looking good, Mr. Collver!

gas . I try aga in and search “Scot ia Inn ghost”—and get 317,000 h i ts . After weeding out the 275,000 h i ts for ho-te ls in Nova Scot ia , I ’m le f t with a handfu l of d i f ferent webs i tes with the exact same paragraph’s worth of in format ion, complete with awkward syntax and mis-spel l ings :

A view of the mysterious 3rd floor at the Scotia Inn

LOOK WHAT THEY B R O U G H T F O R SH OW A N D TE L L

Principal Collver Gets a New Hair-do

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“[ In a] smal l town in Cal -i forn ia named Scot ia , there are a lot of haunt ings . Part icu-lar ly in the Scot ia Inn . There are many s ight ings of many ghosts , but ask the f ront desk person for the most famous of them al l , and you wi l l get the answer . . . ‘F rank. ’ Frank i s on the top s tory in one room. There are many sounds , feet scraps [s ic] , vo ices , ect . [s ic] Frank i s a f r iendly ghost , and some t imes [s ic] wi l l bounce a basket ba l l [s ic] to you, i f you bounce i t to h im. Another s to -ry i s of a woman, and her ch i l -dren. A l i t t le ch i ld was play ing wi th her ba l l one br ight day when her ba l l fe l l o f f the bal -cony, as d id the ch i ld . I t i s sa id the mother and g i r l haunt the room the l i t t le g i r l fe l l o f f o f . [s ic] There i s yet another s tory of a baby cry ing . There are many other ghosts in the Inn . . . jus t as [s ic] the peo-p le that work there.” (From theshadowlands.net. See a lso l egendsofamer ica .com , green-webmonkey .com , hauntedplac-es fusa.b logspot , among oth-ers . ) I keep searching , but I do so with the growing re-a l i zat ion that there ’s noth-ing e lse onl ine to help me with th is story . Which means that somehow I ’m going to have to f ind people in town who have stor ies to te l l about a ghost—or ghosts—at the Scot ia Inn and then convince them to let me interv iew them. I can ’ t he lp fee l ing skept ica l , though, that anyone in the ir r ight mind would want to

ta lk to a reporter about hav ing seen ghosts . Could I have been any more wrong?

* I dec ide I might as wel l s tart at the Scot ia Inn . Br ight a f ternoon sunl ight streams through the win-dows and into the e legant lobby as I approach the front desk and ask the young woman there , “Do you have any in format ion pr inted somewhere about Frank the ghost? You know, l ike a laminated sheet or something?” She looks at me b lankly a moment be fore say ing , “No,” in a doubt fu l tone. I purse my l ips . “OK,” I say . “Do you know anyth ing about Frank?” “Frank?” she echoes . “Forget that ,” I say . “Have you ever seen or heard anyth ing , you know, weird or myster ious or ghost ly around here?” Her face c lears . “Oh, the ghost . I s h is name Frank?” I nod hopefu l ly . “Yah, people ask me about h im a l l the t ime. I te l l them a l l k inds of stu f f .” I perk up and fumble for my l i t t le recorder . “Real ly? L ike what?” “Oh, you know, I just make stu f f up ,” she says , wav ing a breezy hand. “They l ike i t .” I switch of f the record-er . “Wel l , i s there anyone around here who’s actua l ly seen stuf f ?” She th inks a moment and then makes a ca l l back to the k i tchen. She expla ins what ’s going on into the re-

ce iver and a few minutes later a young man i s in front of me. “ I ’ve seen a lot of stu f f ,” he says . He te l l s me about a cha ir that t ipped over in the d in ing room when no one was around i t at the t ime; a water g lass that on i t s own hopped out of a secured d ishwashing crate ; d isembodied foot-steps running in a darkened ha l lway of locked doors ; the top of a mart in i shaker in the bar that popped of f without any human inter-vent ion. Good ghost ly stu f f . This guy ’s a goldmine. I check to make sure the recorder ’s gett ing a l l th is . “This i s great ,” I say . “What ’s your name?” He te l l s me. “And i t ’ s OK for us to pr int your name, r ight?” A beat . “Uh, maybe not ,” he says . We discuss th is for a b i t , the front desk woman l i s tening intent ly , and then sett le for us ing h is f i rst in i t ia l—M. M’s stor ies are good stuf f , but I need more. “ Is there anyone e lse here I can ta lk to?” I ask the front desk woman, who in forms me that I can use her f i rst in i t ia l as wel l , which is S . S te l l s me that the n ight bartender might know something , and wi l l be in momentar i ly ; and r ight then , as i f conjured up by witch-es , the bartender comes walk ing through the front door. I introduce mysel f and br ing her up to speed. She th inks for a moment and then asks S , “Did you te l l

For some reason I a lways re late Hal loween to f i re . A f i t t ing subst i tute for a bonf ire i s a jack-o’ - lantern , or two or three. Did you know that jack-o’ - lanterns w e r e o r i g i n a l l y c a r v e d from turnips? In anc ient Ire land, where the pract ice o r i g i n a t e d , t h e y d i d n ’ t have pumpkins , which are nat ive to North America . Try carv ing a turn ip some-t ime. Trust me, the nat ive pumpkin i s a vast improve-ment upon the anc ient tra-d i t ion. In addit ion to jack-o’ -lanterns , modern imagery o f H a l l o w e e n i n c l u d e s characters from works of gothic and horror l i tera-ture , such as the novels Frankenste in and Dracula . As a boy I loved monsters - - monster novels , monster movies , monster models and a l l th ings scary , and so Hal loween has a lways been one of my favor i te hol i -days . Be la Lugos i in the or ig ina l 1931 b lack and white f i lm Dracula can st i l l curdle my b lood. One of the ear l iest works of l i terature on the subject of Hal loween is f rom the Scott i sh poet , John Mayne, who in 1780 made note of the pranks of Hal loween; “what fear fu l pranks ensue!” Growing up in Detroit , pranks the n ight be fore and dur ing Ha l loween were i ndeed fr ight fu l . Many people got carr ied away, and for a pe-

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Who needs a watchdog? The Grim Reaper is keeping his evil eye on this Scotia home.

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her about that guy the oth-er day who came into the Pub with a l l the stor ies?” “You mean l ike the one about the dead f l ies?” S asks . “Yeah, and the wheel -cha ir ,” the bartender says . “And then that one about the person dy ing in the booth in there and then that guy in the top hat showing up and say ing ‘Some people wi l l do any-th ing to get out of the ir b i l l , ’ and then, l ike , van ish-es .” I ’m try ing to keep up. “A guy walked into a bar with a top hat?” I qu ip . The three of them look at me. “No,” the bartender says pat ient ly . “The ghost had the top hat .” I want to meet th is guy who has a l l the stor ies , but the bartender te l l s me she never saw him before the other n ight and has no idea when, i f ever , he ’d be com-ing back in . “Maybe he’s a ghost ,” S says . The bartender says to M, “Did you te l l her about the l ights?” “Yeah, the l ights ,” M says . “ I saw a l ight on the th ird f loor for three days in a row, and then i t went out .” “And there ’s no power up there ,” the bartender says . More great stu f f . The bartender te l l s me her name, and that i t ’ s OK to pr int i t , but s ince every-one e lse so far (and later) wants anonymity I dec ide for cont inui ty ’s sake to use her f i rst in i t ia l instead, which i s R. I worry br ie f ly that on the page th is story might look l ike something out of a James Bond novel and hope no one I interv iew has a name beg inning with the letter Q. “So have you actua l ly seen any ghosts around here?” I ask R. “L ike , for instance, Frank?” “No, no ghosts ,” she says , “but the jukebox is haunted.” R te l l s me that the juke-box wi l l spontaneous ly start p lay ing songs at random in-terva ls throughout the n ight i f the sta f f forgets to turn of f i ts main switch. Once, she says , there was a tab le of people s i t t ing next to the jukebox on a part icu lar ly busy and noisy n ight who decided to p lay a tune whi le wait ing for the ir food. They put in the ir money and made a se lect ion. Instead of music , though, out of the

speakers came the sound of a s ing le voice ta lk ing , the volume too low to d iscern what was be ing sa id in the noisy pub. After severa l minutes of th i s the people at the tab le f lagged down the ir wai tperson and asked her when the commercia l would stop so they could hear the ir song . “Commercia l ?” the waitper-son sa id . “There aren’t any commerc ia ls on that juke-box.” She went over to in-vest igate and noted that the se lect ion p lay ing was num-ber 3219. She searched through the index to f ind the t i t le of number 3219, but couldn’t f ind i t—because the numbers only went up to 3212. OK, that ’s weird . Wow. M says he has to get back to work, and R says she has to , too. I thank them for the ir t ime and the stor ies . But I have a spec i f ic task here : F ind out about Frank. And I ’d heard noth-ing about Frank. I take a last look around the lobby and spy a low ta-b le with some intr igu ing b inders on i t . They look l ike they might be in format iona l b inders about the hote l . Hoping to f ind a reference to Frank in there some-where, maybe on a laminat-ed sheet , I s i t down and open up the f i rst one and beg in to read. I ’m d imly aware of R bust l ing around downsta irs in the Pub, deac-t ivat ing the a larm and open-ing the door , when I rea l ize she’s ca l l ing my name. I look up.

“You wanna see the haunted jukebox?” she says . “ I t ’ s p lay ing now. On i t s own.” I get mysel f down the steps fast , and jo in R in front of the g lowing juke-box. I can ’ t he lp not ic ing how cheerfu l , color fu l and radiant th is jukebox is . I f I were to try to imag ine what a haunted jukebox would look l ike th is would be the last th ing I ’d come up with . The song p lay ing now has a 1980s rock fee l to i t . R leans over , f inds the name of the se lect ion on the in-dex, and then stra ightens to look at me with widened eyes . “Aerosmith ,” she says , “ ‘The Other S ide . ’” “Wow,” I breathe.

* I t ’ s s lowly dawning on me that I ’m becoming ob-sessed with Frank the ghost . I want to know who he was , how he d ied, why he’s haunt ing the Inn of a l l p lac-es . I dec ide to widen my search by ask ing everyone I come in contact with—at the post of f ice , the bank, Hoby’s , the hardware store—if they know any-th ing about h im. I ’m hoping fervent ly that someone knows something . As i t happens , I don’t have to look very far before I h i t pay d irt . According to H, Frank was a be loved jan i tor at the school who l ived in a room on the th ird f loor of the o ld Scot ia Hotel—the predeces-sor of today ’s Scot ia Inn—and when he peacefu l ly d ied Continued to “Ghosts,” page 4

in h i s s leep of o ld age he d idn’ t want to leave . E i ther that , H says , or he was a lumber jack who died horr i -b ly in the o ld hote l when i t burned down. C says that Frank was a forest worker who was k i l led over a card game on the th ird f loor of the Inn and le f t a b loody handpr int on the wal l that couldn’ t be washed of f , pa inted over , rubbed out or otherwise e l iminated and remains there to th is day . L ike C, B too says that Frank was a lumber jack who was murdered in a card game on the th ird f loor . Shot , B adds . But B d isputes the existence of the b loody handpr int . Instead, B says , the words “Frank’s Room” is pa inted in b lood on the door of the room he was k i l led in and the b lood can’ t be washed of f , pa inted over , etc . “How do you know th is , exact ly?” I ask B. “Old-t imers ,” B says . “Guys I ’ve worked with over the years . They have tons of stor ies , and not just about Frank.” B looks at me meaning fu l ly . “What stor ies?” I ask . In color fu l deta i l B te l l s me about one Scot ia house a f ter another where people d ied and their ghosts re-main . J , who’s been l i s ten ing to our conversat ion, adds that in another Scot ia house there ’s the ghost of a l i t t le g ir l s i t t ing on a bed and swing ing her legs .

One witness reported seeing a light burn for three days in a row on the third floor of the Scotia Inn before going out. There’s no electricity on the third floor. Or is there?

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Also, J says , the hard-ware store is haunted. J de-scr ibes severa l inc idents when employees had heard voices and no one was there . “Once,” J says , “when M and I were here a lone” (not M from the Inn but another M, just to be c lear here) “we heard a woman say , rea l ly d ist inct , she sa id ‘Hi , ’ just over there”—J points—“and we both look up. But there wasn’t anyone there . We walked through the whole store and no one was here .” I ’m start ing to fee l over loaded. I don’t know why I thought i t would be hard to f ind people in Sco-t ia to te l l me the ir ghost stor ies . Most everyone in th is town has one , i t seems. In fact , now I ’m th ink ing i t would be hard to f ind some-one who doesn’t . For instance, there ’s A, who told me about the n ight she and her husband had part ied at the Inn and de-c ided i t would be best to stay the n ight , only to be awakened at 3 a .m. by the sound of k ids laughing and a bouncing ba l l . After invest i -gat ing and f ind ing no chi l -dren or ba l l s they got them-se lves out of there , fast . S (another S , not the front desk woman at the Inn) told me about hear ing footsteps above her on the Inn’s th ird f loor when she was pos i -t ive ly the only one in the whole bui ld ing . T to ld me about the door that whacked h im on h is keester as he went into the men’s room on the d in ing room leve l of the Inn . The door had had a doorstop keeping i t f i rmly open—unt i l T showed up. “There are so many ghost stor ies here in Sco-t ia ,” I remark now to J and B . “ I wonder, why i s that?” B smi les gr imly . “Look around,” B says . “Do you see a cemetery here?” I ’m not sure what B is gett ing at but re f lex ive ly I g lance out the window. “No, you do not . So where e lse do you th ink the sp ir i ts of the dead have to go?”

* I t ’ s becoming c lear to me what I should have known from the beg inning : I ’m going to have to actua l ly go up to the th ird f loor of the Scot ia Inn and see for mysel f just exact ly what in the heck is going on up there . I approach the people at the Town of Scot ia of f ices and ask i f I might get the A ghost’s-eye view—such as the one “Frank” might see— from the third floor of the Scotia Inn.

“Maybe i t ’ s a haunted l ight bulb .” T smi les at me, sym-pathet ica l ly I th ink . I ’m not sure why. We cont inue down the g loomy ha l lway . I t seems complete ly deserted but for us three, walk ing a long and marvel ing at the v intage carpet and other per iod ac-coutrements ; no d isembod-ied voices , footsteps , sounds of ba l l s bouncing or appearances of departed in-habi tants . Just us . I t ’ s been the better part of an hour and we’ve been a l l around the th ird f loor . I ’m th ink ing about what to f ix mysel f for lunch when we round the corner of a room and there , taped to the wal l above an old , dusty bathtub, i s a water-spotted p iece of cardboard with what looks l ike wri t ing on i t . A burst of adrena l ine f loods through me as I rush toward i t ahead of the oth-ers , squint ing to make out the faded penci led words : Clean Tub After Bath Thank You F , T and I stand there and gaze at the s ign . After a few moments , F says , “Ready to go?”

* On our way down we encounter the housekeeper , J (not , as you might guess by now, the same J men-t ioned above) and she asks us how our tr ip upsta irs went . “We didn’ t see any-th ing ,” I te l l her . “Or hear

key to the th ird f loor . A town of f ic ia l , F , and h is as-s istant , T (another T, not the one who tang led with the door) express a des ire to accompany me; and even though I don’t be l ieve in ghosts I rea l i ze I ’m re l ieved not to be going up there by mysel f . We meet the next morning , a br i l l i ant ly sunny fa l l morning , and make our way up the sta ircase to the harmless- looking door to the th ird f loor . F , who among other accompl ish-ments has a remarkable knowledge of h istory , pro-v ides an ongoing stream of h istor ica l facts about the Scot ia Inn . From the very beg inning of the town ca l led Scot ia , F in forms us , there ’d a lways been some k ind of lodg ing s i tuated roughly around where the Inn is now, which housed t imberland and mi l l workers as wel l as v is i t ing company of f ic ia l s . But i t wasn’ t unt i l 1903 that the f i rst large hote l , the Scot ia Hotel , was bui l t on th is s i te . In addit ion to Pac i f ic Lumber Company workers and of f ic ia ls i t catered a l so to tour ists . I t burned down twenty years a f ter i t was bui l t , and in 1924 the pre-sent structure was complet-ed and named the Mowatoc Hotel , a f ter the loca l Nat ive American tr ibe . The name was changed in the late 1940s to the Scot ia Inn . By now we’ve reached the th ird f loor landing and beg in to strol l down a long , darkened ha l lway . I menta l ly

rev iew my checkl i s t of th ings to keep an eye out for : basketba l l s , ba l l s in genera l , b loody s igns on doors , b loody handpr ints , b lood in genera l . Watch out for objects f ly ing around. Make sure you hold doors open long enough to get through them without in-f l i c t ing harm upon yourse l f or others . As we walk we encoun-ter holes in the ce i l ings and wal l s every so often, great gouges that revea l p ipes and wooden underpinnings . They look l ike they could have been made by enraged su-pernatura l be ings hur l ing ectoplasmic charges at each other . I mean, i t could hap-pen. At one part icu lar ly large hole I make an aston-ished sound and F says , “These were a l l made by workmen looking for leaks or e lectr ica l shorts .” “Uh-huh,” I say neutra l -ly . The rooms up here are smal ler than the guest rooms on the second f loor and universa l ly festooned with cobwebs , the windows d ingy with accumulated dust . After severa l minutes we approach a wal l with a s ing le bare l i ght bu lb mounted in i ts center . “That won’t work,” I announce. “There ’s no pow-er up here .” T walks over and pul l s the dang l ing cord beneath the bulb and i t l i ghts up. T looks over at me. “Huh,” I say . “Maybe i t ’ s just th is bulb ,” T says he lp fu l ly . Continued to “Ghosts,” page 6

Continued from “Frank,” page 2 for working hard to keep the sp ir i t of the dead a l ive . One house, on B Street, ap-parently has a moving ghoul; having taken several photos, when reviewing them now, I recognize that the ghastly ap-par i t ion turns i ts head , fo l -lows my locat ion with i ts l i fe less sunken eyes and ges-tures with i ts bony f ingers . I ’m not sure I dare go back to find out if the thing has a motor. This year, whether your Halloween activities include haunted houses, corn mazes or hayrides, bonfires, trick-or-treating or monster movies, have a wonderful, safe and spooky Halloween!

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by Frank Bacik This is a quick heads-up for Scotians who might be travel-ing Mill Street and Church Street, in the vicinity of Mill Lane and Eddy Street, begin-ning Monday October 28th. As part of the town of Scotia’s in-frastructure upgrade project, we will be doing some explora-tory excavation or “potholing” on Monday in those locations. We are just looking to identify and confirm the location of various underground utilities. Notwithstanding the old blue prints and engineering maps, sometimes you just have to go look for stuff. Scotia crews will be working with the Fortu-na vacuum crew. These big suckers are just that. Vacuum trucks allow very focused exca-vations to be unearthed, by just a few operators, in a very short time and with very little disturbance. As planned, the crews will dig nice clean holes around some of the key utili-ties to check their elevation, quality, condition, etc. After excavat ing , ident i -fy ing and conf i rming loca-t ions , the town crew wi l l b ack f i l l w i th appropr i a t e mater ia l and “cold patch” the excavat ions to replace the asphalt sur face . Both land d isturbance and tra f f ic interrupt ions should be he ld to a min imum. We apolo-g ize in advance for any in-convenience. P lease pro-ceed carefu l ly wherever you see men in orange vests . These fo lks and the ir equip-ment are assembled to per-form th is essent ia l act iv i ty . I f you have quest ions or concerns , p lease fee l free to ca l l us at the Town of Sco-t ia Lega l Af fa irs of f ice .

ORANGE V E S T A L E R T !

r iod of a lmost 20 years from the 70s to the 90s , in the Motor City “Dev i l ’ s Night ,” the n ight before Hal loween, was character-ized by fr ight fu l works of arson, v io lence and vanda l -i sm. Of course , “tr ick-or-treat ing” has become syn-onymous with Hal loween, and a lmost everyone a l ive remembers engag ing in the door to door pract ice as a k id . But that trad i t ion i s by no means anc ient . Sur-pr is ing ly , tr ick-or-treat ing does not seem to have be-come a widespread prac-t ice in the United States

until the 1930s, with the first appearances of the term in about 1934, and the first use in a national publication occurring in 1939. While it may seem as though trick-or-treating has always been a big deal in Sco-tia, in fact the practice devel-oped far later than essentially everything else here in town. Decora t i on s , however , a r e a n a g e - o l d c u s t o m . Some Scot ia res idents never fa i l to surpr ise and del ight with the ir adornment of home and hearth for th is spooky hol iday . We inc lude a photo of one of the best decorated homes. I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you to those residents

At the end of my even-ing walk , instead of going home, I impuls ive ly dec ide to duck into the Pub and see i f R i s work ing . I t ’ s a Fr iday n ight and the p lace i s super busy ; and as I walk in I g lance over at the cheery jukebox. I t ’ s p lay ing a c las-s ic country rock song , “Sweet Home Alabama,” which to my mind holds no part icu lar ghost ly meaning . I s i t in the one open seat at the bar and order a short beer . “How ya doin ’ ?” the guy in the seat next to mine says . I g lance at h im. “OK,” I say . “How are you?” He’s watching the game on the TV over the bar . He’s about 40 years o ld , with long ish medium brown ha ir , a medium bui ld , and dressed in a k ind of medium-brown jacket and pants . His eyes are on the screen and he says to me, “Don’t be d isappointed. They don’t show up just ’cause you want them to.” I s tra ighten and look fu l l at h im. He g lances down from the TV and winks at me. “What—?” I begin, and he nods at R, who’s making drinks behind the bar. “I heard you were looking for Frank.” I turn to stare at R for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to get her attention, but it’s a very busy night and she has a lot of glasses lined up in front of her. Finally I turn back to the guy on my right, opening my mouth to ask him a ques-tion—but the seat is empty. Quickly, I swing around to scan the room, and just manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of the exiting figure of a man as the front door of the Pub bangs shut. And is that…? Can that be…? It’s in shadow and it’s only for a fraction of a second, but I could swear the guy’s got a top hat on his head. I watch the door a moment longer, willing him to reappear, but no, he’s gone. Sighing, the feeling of restless incomplete-ness stronger in me than ever, I swivel back to the bar—and discover there, in front of my glass, printed in pencil on a neat white square of a napkin, these words: “Just because you can’t see the color red doesn’t mean i t doesn’ t ex ist .” Wow.

Continued from “Ghosts,” page 4

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anyth ing .” J must th ink I ’m disap-pointed, because she te l l s me that when she comes in ear ly in the morning to work the p lace i s utter ly ca lm and she never sees or hears anyth ing e i ther . But , she says , maybe i t ’ s just her . Last year a guest at the Inn who descr ibed herse l f as a sens i t ive looked into J ’ s eyes and sa id , “You’re an unbel iever , aren’ t you?” “ I t was that gu i tar p lay-er ’s wi fe ,” J says . “She to ld me she sensed there were some women ghosts around here. E ight of them, I th ink she sa id . Also, she saw Frank in a mirror in Room 209.” “Someone who actua l ly saw Frank!” I exc la im. “Yah, she was a l i t t le d i f ferent ,” J says . “Nice per-son. But she ’s from L.A.”

* I t ’ s a few days a f ter the tr ip up to the th ird f loor and I ’m fee l ing a l i t t le rest-less for some reason I can’t ident i fy . The story i s shap-ing up n ice ly , which usua l ly i s a cause for fee l ing good; but I can ’ t shake a sort of nagg ing sense of incom-pleteness , just at the edge of my consc iousness .

The Department of Health and Human Serv ices ’ Mobi le Outreach program wi l l make a Wel l Chi ld Denta l V is i t to R io Del l on Wednesday , Nov. 13, from 1 to 3 p .m. The Mobi le Outreach bus wi l l be parked at the Rio Del l Volunteer F ire Depart-ment . Educat iona l in format ion

COUNTY HEALTH & HUMAN SERVICES COMES TO RIO DELL

about ora l hea l th wi l l be provided as wel l as spec ia l too thbrushes , too thpas te and denta l f loss , des igned to encourage chi ldren to take care of the ir teeth . Also, f luor ide varnish appl i -cat ions wi l l be ava i lab le to a l imited number of ch i l -dren. The denta l varn ish program is for ch i ldren 6

months to 5 years of age . To make an appointment , ca l l 267-4551. According to the Amer-i c an Denta l As soc i a t ion , two or more appl icat ions of f luor ide varnish a year are e f fect ive in prevent ing cav i -t ies in h igh-r i sk popula-t ions .

SAVE THE DATE

Including Scotia's Own

Doug Fir and the 2x4s