Last weekend I went on a ghost hunt at Laurel Hill cemetery.  I'm usually such a chicken that I can't watch those paranormal investigation shows without spending the rest of the night wide-eyed under my comforter, startled by every moth fluttering outside the window.  Fortunately, nothing terribly out of the ordinary happened on our moonlit ramble around the grounds, though the good people of Free Spirit Paranormal Investigations did their best to set a spooky tone, pointing out areas of negative energy, as well as some friendly spirits playing in the shadows.  Oh, and one who rode by on a horse.  (I do hope he tipped his hat at us.)

Harry Kalas, the late Phillies announcer whose grave we visited first, didn't make contact. (He was probably rendered speechless by his team's collapse the night before in Game 5 of the playoffs.) His monument is in the shape of a giant microphone, and the plot of grass is surrounded by four original bleacher seats from the old Veterans Stadium. 

The tour eventually took us by my ancestor Caspar Gregory's grave.  "Anything?" I asked the investigator in charge of my group.  He shook his head no.  I must admit that I was relieved my great-great-great-great-grandfather didn't try to make contact. (Or choose that moment to go riding by on horseback.)  I'm perfectly happy with one-way communication when it comes to visiting certain family members.  (Even, perhaps, some living ones...)