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Last Updated: Dec 12, 2008 - 4:54:39 PM |
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Part One of Two
Halloween is drawing near and I’m starting to see kids wandering around outside in their costumes in anticipation of all the candy, so I thought I’d stick with the scary theme for this week as well (No bats though, I promise).
If the amount of fuss that goes into Halloween decorations, costumes, parties, and scary movies is any indication, our society loves being afraid. I can personally attest to this because even though I was terrified of the dark, when my dad would suddenly drop his shoulders into a hunch, drag one leg, and slowly clomp after me (and my friends, if they were over) while growling “arrrrrrrrr”, I would scream in delight and fear and beg him to do it again if he stopped. Sometimes my friends and I wouldn’t even need him. All it would take was a screech of “The boogeyman is coming!” and we’d tear up the stairs, skidding in our socks at the top of the hardwood landing, trying to get away from something that wasn’t there. (It just occurred to me that maybe all kids don’t enjoy this and I was just some sort of adrenaline junky who used the “flight-or-flight” reflex to get a much needed rush.) My guess though, if the ghost stories I’ve been hearing from adults are any indication, I’m not the only one who enjoys being scared out of my wits. (This is not an invitation to come pounding on my windows in the middle of the night, by the way.)
A few months ago, a friend and I were discussing taking senior portraits. She told me I should find out where “Ghost Bridge” was, because it might be a good backdrop. Plus, I think the indication was the students would think it was pretty cool (or whatever word they use these days) to have their picture taken there. My response was “Ghost Bridge? What is that?”, but she didn’t have any answers.
Luckily, I have some fairly young friends who filled me in. The problem was I didn’t believe them. I’m not saying I don’t believe in ghosts. Just as I can’t prove they do exist, I also can’t prove they don’t, so I’m open to the possibility. This pretty much makes me a skeptic, until I actually see one for myself. I’ve been witness to some strange unexplainable occurrences at a recent place of employment, but I can’t say for certain those pans that were made to stack on top of each other were stacked properly on the shelf when they clattered to the floor. (But really, my gut says they were.)
The main reason why I didn’t believe the guys who told me the story was because I knew that bridge, and I drove by that bridge pretty frequently back in the 80’s on the way to my friend Joni’s house. To me, this was nothing but a “Road Closed” sign on a particularly tight, and very slippery winter corner. I also remember the road leading to the bridge from the other direction. I’m not sure why it fascinated me so much, except I’ve always been easily entertained by designs in nature, and this road veered away from Hwy 6 at a particularly intriguing angle. (In my memory, my dad and I drove on it when it was still open, but I have no idea why--probably because I begged.) Then the guys told me a murder had taken place there and what year they thought it had occurred, and I really laughed. “No way. If that had happened in the early 80’s, I’d have remembered it.” But they insisted, so I decided to investigate. (I was also dragged out there into the creepy darkness somewhat against my will that night, where after hearing what could have been either screams or a bird, I decided I’d be more comfortable back in the truck.)
At first, my investigation meant I asked everyone I knew who was around then if they remembered such a thing, and everyone I asked said “No” with a puzzled look on their faces. Since that method didn’t get me anywhere I trudged off to the library to look at the microfilm of old Marengo newspapers.
If you’ve never used microfilm, and are going to in the future, I suggest you take a Dramamine before going to the library. The Silly Silo at Adventureland wasn’t as nausea-producing as the spinning of that film through the viewer. Also, if you like to reminisce, plan for wasting a lot of time looking at pictures of classmates and finding out useless tidbits such as a six-pack of Pepsi was only 99 cents, and my cousin Megan wanted a set of play teeth and “a lot of money” from Santa that year. After wasting a couple of hours in 1982, I decided to search late 1979 to early 1980 instead, and that’s when I found the story, on the front page, bigger–than-life. In other words, I should have remembered it--especially since I spent a great deal of my childhood in the newspaper office.
Now it’s not my intention to bring back any traumatic memories to the people inadvertently involved, but the guys who told me the story were, for the most part, right.
Continued next week....
Susie Turnbull Photo
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