The Journal of the Maine Paranormal Society

Twas a few days after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a Ghost. The stockings all hung by the chimney with care. Warm thoughts of St Nick still fresh in the air.

Well, thats how it was supposed to go. Plagued by two back to back snow storms. The e-mails were pouring in. The question of the day. Are we still going on the investigastion or not. Our fearless leader Jim caught a weather report that predicted a dusting in the Southern Maine, New Hampshire area. The report I saw predicted snow by the foot. With the first priority always the home owner. I gave Wendy a call to see what she wanted to do. Her family was vacating the home so we could investigate. Their safety was first. She reported her family was buzzing around town regardless of the storm. She had asked her husband if plans should change. He told her he planned to snow blow the driveway then leave for his party whether we went out or not.

“You are Maine Paranormal Society right? Hardy Mainers who go out in anything?” She asked

I recall two of us are/were emergency workers and did indeed go out in anything. So that left it to the boys. After reviewing an e-mail and a short video of personal experiences. The boys informed me they would strap on snow shoes and start walking. (a mere 13hr walk) The other members were on the fence. Our more Northern investigators were getting the most snow. So we encouraged them to stay home. JJ, Luke and I were already in Biddeford. So I told Jim if he wanted to go, drive down here and see how the roads are.

By the time we all gathered at JJ’s house. Luke was MIA with his cell phone sitting on the coffee table. There was no choice but to wait it out. A frazzled Luke blew in the door. Having spent the last three hours on a mission. He had the rug pulled out from under his feet. With no food in his belly and an unsuccessful day behind him. He was snorting and pawing in the dirt. (Why did I feel like I was wearing too much red?)

Already well past the planned departure time. Jim’s hopes of Applebee’s were dashed. He settled for Wendy’s instead. We headed out in the famous red Focus. Braving the winter storm and slick roads.

As we sat down to eat, the digs and comments fly. Warm food was no comfort as we sat in the only resturant in town with no heat. Meal done, we headed out to warm up. Of course, this is the perfect time to quit smoking. Going against my better judgement. I stepped between a smoking JJ and a fire breathing Luke. We got in the car and (of course) headed to Walmart. Luke returned to the car first muttering about herding cats. I didn’t dare point out he was one of em. The last person to get back to the car was JJ. A large iced coffee in hand. He sauntered across the snow covered parking lot.

Feeling better that we were on the road. I was confident I could get us there safely. I headed toward the turnpike. No lanes were visible. But the traffic was light. I was feeling pretty good about our decision. Until the little Focus made it known it wanted to throw itself in front of any passing 18 wheeler. The front end and back end swung back and forth to its own unique rythm. Luke, the helpful, kind hearted person he is, offered advise. “Don’t over correct.” Don’t feather the gas so much.” When I told him the wheel was held steady. He sat back with a strandgled whimper. The back end did a thump and a wiggle wiggle.

“What was that?!” Luke asked shooting forward in his seat.

“Squirrel!” I answer.

Not seeing the humor. He asks again. I calmly repeat. Gas and wheel are steady.   Thump….wiggle wiggle……

“Dude ! Snow tires!” is heard from the back.

“Na…..You get used to it after a while.” Jim shrugs.

I did add, much to Luke’s dismay, that in all my years of driving in emergency situations and disasters. This was the single worst vehicle I had ever driven. Another whimper was heard from the darkness out back. We left the turnpike in hopes of safer travel. On Rt1, slower speeds, less traffic and clear tire tracks made all in the car more at ease. The verbal judo resumed. Jim nailed Luke with a comment. Luke resoonded by pounding on the back of my seat. Scolding him didn’t work. Letting the back end fish tail did. He sat back, crossed his arms and said.

“Oh yeah Shadooooo….what am I thinking now?”

“I don’t know how I feel about this psychic talking. Are you two psychic talking? Jim shakes his head with a wrinkled brow.

“Hey! Hes ripping the heads off my squirrels and kung-fooing them!” I respond.

Luke lets out an evil laugh and turns his attention to the boys. I try to unkink my neck by stretching. Its painfully obvious that I should have a pillow under my butt. No way I was gonna confess that to them. Discussion on whose directions are better and who has the best features on their phones kept the boys busy. With nothing to measure of my own. I concentrate on driving. One turn off Rt1 and the houses become much bigger. One more turn and our jaws drop.

Why is it when you have a one bedroom apartment to investigate you find yourself tripping over 5 investigators. But when you have a 1750s farmhouse with 10 rooms. You only have 4.

Wendy met us at the door and invited us in. Our jaws remained slack as we took it all in. I know some people find beauty in diamonds or expensive cars. But to us, this home was worth way more than those two combined. Thankfully Wendy was focused on the task. She started with the scrapbook she had. The story begins in 1685 with the settlement of the property by the Sanborns. The held it for 71 years until the Perkins family came along in 1756. They held it for 110 years. Even adding a portion of the home bought from a man who was later the victum of a Borden style killing. Wendy is very careful to separate out the facts. Although she has the article of the double murder. She is very specific that the portion of her home was purchased and moved before the unfortunate events.

Even in the 1800s there was house flipping. Purchased for a mere $875 in 1866 and sold back into the Sanborn family in 1867  for $2,000. Dr. Sanborn’s family held the home for 96 years. The trials of life played out across the paper with date after date of births and deaths. A country doctor who traveled to his patients by horse and buggy. Even bringing the sick and injured into his own home. Tell tale marks on the doorways from his wife’s wheelchair still present to this day.

A man whose life was dedicated to the service of others was not spared the tragic events playing out in his on family. Still his sense of humor and calm perserverance was legendary. Articles of his work proudly displayed in Wendy’s scrapbook. Written by Dr. Sanborn’s biggest fan and brother.

Would you ever think that 200 years from now. A group of strangers would be looking at your photos and reading about you in the same house you used to live in?

Just to make sure we were sufficently overwhelmed. Wendy took us on a tour. Room by room, personal experiences were retold. A  full bodied apparition, glimpses of people wearing surgical masks, hearing voices, tea cups rattling, opening  and closing of doors regardless of the locks they had. The best toy the previous owners remember was the pool table. The girls would arrange the balls in a certain way and then go off to play. They always found them in a different spot when they came back to the room.

This was the time of the biggest  renovations and had 4 teenage girls living in the home. The most activity was reported by this family. Although the home is alot more calm these days. Wendy and her husband have had their share of experiences.  Enough to research a taboo topic in a professional person’s life. She stummbled upon TAPS and felt the science based approach fit very well with her beliefs.

Just before we set up. Wendy pointed out the snacks she so generously set out. She also handed out little hand made pouches with the team member’s names on them. Cell phones safely in their new pouches. The boys set up. I did an EMF sweep and got a feel for the house. It felt, well…….just like a home. As a matter of fact. Luke didn’t get the sharp fuzzies once the whole time.

We set about investigating. Sitting on the floor in the dining room where the pool balls were reported to move. No one chose to play. Upstairs seemed equally quiet. Wendy drifted back and forth. Watching the cameras at the com center. She took it all in. As excited to have us there as we were to be there.

Switching it up. I head upstairs with JJ. Soon the snoring begins. The home still felt calm and peaceful. Despite the raging storm outside. Wind rattled the window panes and sounded like an angry ocean pounding the rocky shore. I joined Luke and Jim downstairs. They weren’t having any more luck than JJ and I. They made their way back upstair. I could hear them talking about foot steps. I left JJ to watch over the com center and headed up. No such luck. No one wanted to come out and play.

We packed up and gave Wendy her home back. I noticed she packed up the goodies and sent the boys off in good shape. She definitely gained a spot in their hearts that night. Like tired kids, they climbed into the car. As soon as the little car hit its rythm. They were asleep. The roads were still bad.  But Rt1 was empty of all traffic. An advantage to traveling at 3am. The cops we passed didn’t even feel the need to check in with us. I do dread the day when we have to explain where we were, what we do, and no officer, we have not been drinking. They stayed nestled in their cars. Idling near snow banks.

Thump…..wiggle wiggle. I find myself laughing as I drive. Crazy carnival car swished its way home. As we neared Biddeford. I woke the guys.

“Better wake up if your driving. Theres got to be ice under the snow pack. This car is not handling well at all.” I tell them.

We drop JJ off. Luke and Jim crash for a few hours. Once daylight hits, they are on their way. Our MPS slumber party over. I head to work.

Luke sends out a feel good e-mail. I smile at his good nature. I would like to be able to look back on this weekend with fond memories. Maybe it was the snow storm or the three girls I was driving to Hampton. Possibly the reason I am not. Could be  the evil Ford Focus with suicidal ideations. But then who could forget the hysterical cries from the back seat.

The crushing cramps I had still didn’t have me crying as much as the menfolk. Nor did the pain in my neck from trying to see over the steering wheel of said Focus. The most beautiful sight that night remains the bottle of Advil Luke pulled from his bag.

18hr shift over. Me and my cramps head home. Nope…..still not looking back with fond memories. I might just have to admit the boys got the best of me this weekend. I try to sit and review the audio evidence collected. But my inbox seems to be conspiring against me. One of the e-mails is from Wendy. The wonder and excitement is palpable in her writing. She writes:

“Talking with you and meeting your team has also been such a great learning experience for me. And I am a believer in life long learning…so new insights are always welcome. I feel like I have gained a new way to look at this house, its history, and an appreciation for the families who spent so much time here.”

I smile and think how great this whole experience is. Ok…..maybe fond memories are possible. Thank you Wendy for the positive energy and heartfelt words. For us, its a humbling experience to have y0u share with us something you hold so dear. AND its always nice to not let the boys get the best of me!