Spirit Lake

I had a crazy idea some years back—a few of my friends know of this. Forgive me if I repeat myself.

I saw that people were hanging out shingles as pet therapists. I don't think any particular credentials are necessary. As always, I thought, "Why should somebody be making money off something I could do equally well? Actually, I can do them one better."

So as a rather elaborate joke (you know I do these!), I told a few friends that I wanted to hang out a shingle as a psychotherapist for haunted houses.

And I actually have credentials to be a therapist (even though today I would run many miles away from any situation where I might be expected to function as one.)

So my premise was that ghosts are not necessarily a bad thing to have in a house. Lock yourself out? A cooperative ghost could just slip through the wall and open the door from the inside. Get things out of high cabinets. Pick the safe. Take the dog out while you're gone. Retrieve the diamond ring you dropped down the drain or the key that fell behind the dresser. Bring you a cup of tea and a scone without having to bother with doorways. A ghost really could tell you what is making that noise in the attic. Act as a security guard. Beetlejuice borrowed my idea of enlisting a cooperative ghost or two to send unwanted guests packing.

So why are some ghosts unpleasant? Because they are frustrated. Lonely. Feel unappreciated. Feel that they have no purpose. Maybe life was really awful, but they have found that the afterlife is even worse. That would make anybody (or any disembodied entity) grumpy.

The remedy is to help ghosts work through those feelings. Give positive reinforcement and affirmation. If needed, do family counseling between homeowner and ghost. Give the ghost a whole new lease on [after]life.

The ghost, once rehabilitated, would be free to stay or to go. The benefits of staying would be much- appreciated companionship and a rewarding afterlife. The consequences of going would be far less security and a constant worry of being exorcized.

Of course, if a house has multiple ghosts, it might be group therapy with additional individual sessions.

(I think you can imagine the twinkle in my eye as I'm telling this!)

So when we lived in Portland in the late 1970s, I shared my 'plan' with some friends. They loved it. Shortly thereafter, they had dinner guests over who had just bought an old house and were concerned that it might be haunted. William told them about me. The woman became very excited and asked how to get in touch with me.

William gave a big Cheshire cat smile when he told me about it later. "I told her that you and Dale were up at Spirit Lake."

Which was actually true. And it really was that Spirit Lake. It was a beautiful place, far from civilization, truly pristine. We made the 2 1/2 hour drive from Portland several times between our arrival in October 1978 and the huge eruption that destroyed the lake (and made Mt. St. Helens a household name) on May 18, 1980.

Later, I thought about writing a sitcom about a therapy group for people who gradually discover that their homes are occupied by poltergeists. The group would develop coping strategies, and report back on ways to help the spirit feel more appreciated. A contented poltergeist doesn’t feel compelled to create mischief, but can easily scare off any unwanted visitors. A foolproof home security system. And a storyline with lots of comic potential.

I really did believe in ghosts when I was little. I developed a “protective” habit of sleeping with at least a sheet pulled up over my ears. I still do that, at least sometimes. It must have worked: I’ve never been harmed by a ghost… like the old joke about sprinkling something to ward off elephants in your house. (“Does it work?” “Well, do you see any elephants?” “No.” “See? It’s working.”) 

I don’t believe in ghosts now, at least in the same way. I do believe in the transcendent spirit and spiritual connectedness. That doesn’t require any intervention at all. Just peace, hope, and faith in the human race. 

And it leaves plenty of room for my imagination, along with my rather unique sense of humor.