Two dauntless dames from Vassar’s Class of ‘54 plan to meet for lunch in Santa Monica. This should be easy, except Alumna Number One lives several miles down the coast and rarely drives her grey Camry into the metropolis of which Santa Monica is a part.
She looks up the address on Google and memorizes the location.…well, sort of. She doesn’t remember how to find the GPS button on her phone. When she exits the freeway, she turns in the direction she thought the map had indicated, looking for 27th and Pearl. She can find 26th and 28th streets, but no 27th and no Pearl. Continue reading
I saw something in the news the other day about Jack Lemmon, the actor, who died 15 years ago at age 76. Although I enjoyed his work, I never met him, but I came close.
Early in the 1960’s, I was a young researcher on the UCLA faculty. I was involved in a study of the sleep patterns of asthma patients. We asked some of our patients to sleep at the Westwood Neuropsychiatric Unit with electrodes strapped to their Continue reading
I tend to be a peace-maker. I avoid conflict, don’t like confrontation, and most certainly never go looking for trouble. But something in me is changing, and, in certain situations, I’m having a bit of trouble keeping my mouth shut . . . Continue reading
Ghosts don’t exist. They belong in the realm of fairies, goblins, hobbits, and other fictional characters. At least, that is what I believed until my trip to Italy.
I flew to Milan with the intention of staying at Pension Carrobbio, a three-story hotel near the Piazza del Duomo. My friend who suggested the place said there were rumors of ghosts on the third floor. Continue reading
Gargoyle by Eclipse84
Not sure if this is a ghost story, but I swear to God it’s true. See, we finished up our work late, Geneva and me. By then, everybody else had left the set. I’m a stunt woman, so I’d been riding horses all day long, subbing for the skinny blonde actress who sat around filing her nails. Geneva, she was in charge of costumes. By the time she got her stuff cleaned up and put away, it was eleven thirty. Couldn’t wait to get back to that motel shower and wash the horse sweat off of me.
We’re stepping into my Ford when Geneva said, “Eddy, not Eddy the carpenter, but Eddy the wrangler, he asked if we wanted to stop by his place on the way home. Said it was going to be a good party.”
I snorted. “A good party? In North Dakota? You got to be kiddin’”. I revved up the Pinto and got her on the road. A dead straight two lane highway stretching out through flat fields on both sides. No moon. No street lights, no cars. Far as my eye could see, just nothin’ but us.
Geneva lay back and closed her eyes. I let my mind wander to the Hershey bar I had stashed in the glove compartment. Just as I was reaching across Geneva’s lap, came this huge WHOMP, right on top of the car. Geneva screamed. The car zigzagged across the highway Continue reading