Backalley bandit caught in the act!

So, yours truly was minding his own business, watching some Sports Center recaps last night.

Then, all of a sudden, the north side of my house was flooded by spot lights.

That's not an entirely unheard of circumstance, as the motion detectors I have out there cause the lights to come on as soon as someone pulls into my driveway.

But, there wasn't a car in the drive this time. And, I didn't see anybody on foot when I looked thru the windows.

Maybe some strong wintery winds were blowing branches? Nope.

What could it be?!

Kinda freaked me out when it happened the 2nd and 3rd times. I even went out there to try to figure out what was tripping those motion detectors, but found nothing. Hallowe'en was a month ago!

Didn't get much sleep last night, worrying about what I might have creeping around out there.

Then, as I was sipping coffee this morning, I spotted the culprit: the biggest raccoon I've ever seen was gingerly making his way across the property wall.

I wonder how he got so big?

Probably from going thru so many post-Thanksgiving trash cans in the alleyways of College Park . . .

Well, at least the mystery is solved and I don't have to worry about the paranormal explanations that were running thru my head!!

Name that ghost!

Let me preface this post by saying it is merely the result of there being no Gator game to watch today.

Thus, yours truly found himself watching the Biography Channel's new series "Celebrity Ghost Stories."

Thru with the mocking laughter, yet?

OK, so the new show included the story of Joan Rivers' supposedly haunted apartment in New York City. I won't bore ye socks with the absurd details of her consultations with a voodoo priestess, but she did make the claim that the ghost who continues to lurk around the premises is a niece of J.P. Morgan named "Mrs. Spencer."

The genealogist in me found that vague identification unacceptable. So, after rolling my eyes at my own willingness to watch such tripe, I decided to attempt to at least ascertain precisely who the poor soul is supposed to be doomed to sharing the same cramped apartment with Ms. Rivers.

So far, no luck.

For starters, there were TWO men named John Pierpont (JP) Morgan:

1. John Pierpont Morgan, Sr. (1837-1913) had four younger siblings, though only three sisters survived childhood to marry and have children of their own. The eldest was Sarah (1839-1896) who married kinsman George Hale Morgan and had at least one daughter: C. Lucy Morgan (1872). The second was Mary (1844) who married Walter Haynes Burns and also had at least one daughter: Mary Ethel Burns (1873). The third was Juliet (1847) who also married a kinsman, John B. Morgan, and had at least one daughter: Ursula Junius Morgan (1869). I couldn't find any marriage records for these nieces, but they were probably too old to be the culprits. Rivers said her ghost died only a couple of years before she moved into the apartment in the early 90s.

and

2. John Pierpont Morgan, Jr. (1867-1943) also had three sisters. I couldn't find anything about the youngest, Anne Tracy Morgan (1873-1952). But, the two older sisters did marry and have children. The first was Louise, who married Herbert Livingston Satterlee. They had at least two daughters, Mabel Satterlee Ingalls and Eleanor Satterlee Gibbs, but no Spencer marriage record for either. The second was Juliet (1870), who married William Pierson Hamilton (a grandson of Alexander Hamilton). They had two daughters: Helen, who married Arthur Woods (not Spencer!); and Elizabeth (who died in 1919).

I know, many of ye socks out there don't care for my postings of this much genealogical gibberish. So, I won't belabor the point any further. The bottom line is, I couldn't find any niece of either J.P. Morgan who carried the Spencer surname.

The thought did occur to me that the niece in question might have been a niece by marriage, but it's getting too late in the evening to go chasing down that line of thought. Anyone out there want to pick up where I left off?

Touring ye Tarheel State

The early morning hours found me approaching North Carolina's capitol city: Raleigh.

Nice place. They call it the "city of oaks" for a reason. Lots of construction going on here, but that's not the reason for my visit. I was bound for the National Genealogical Society's annual convention.

Parking was easy to find, and much more reasonably priced than I expected after so many years of being at the mercy of parking garages in Central Florida.

The brand new convention center (opened in September) was amazing, easily navigated, and welcoming.

Saw a lot of cool things on the convention floor. Some of it wasn't even genealogy-related (i.e. "Happy Feet" insoles?!?) I have to congratulate my self-discipline in avoiding the purchase of any new books. But, in a moment of weakness, I did give in to the urge to buy a souvenir t-shirt.

Met some nice people, and received a pin for my volunteer work with familysearch.com.

Then, it was a jaunt a few miles west on I-40 to Greensboro to visit a site that played an important role in the history of our family: Guilford Courthouse Battlefield. It was there, on 15 March 1781, that one of my ancestors gave his life in the American Revolution. I've known that fact for a long, long time, but never imagined the site of the battle would look the way it does. It's not some remote field in the middle of the countryside. Instead, it is completely surrounded by urban sprawl.

The NPS rangers, though, did a great job of interpreting the site and were kind enough to look up my ancestor's service record to help me pinpoint exactly where he fell during the fighting. (Or, at least where his regiment was positioned.) Unfortunately, an horrific deluge ensued, and I was unable to walk the grounds.

If not for the rain clouds, the shadows would have been growing long by that point anyway, so the decision was made to head back east. I was surprised that we made it back as far as I-95 before pulling over at a Hampton Inn here in Dunn, NC.

Now, it's time to wind-down and get ready for the big Ghost Whisperer season finale . . .

I-4 is more than a nightmare

Anyone who's had to use Central Florida's most infamous road can tell you that.

But, now it seems we finally have proof of who's to blame:

Ghosts.

That's right, ghosts.

It seems back when the notoriously traffic-clogged highway was inflicted upon the region back in 1960, the builders neglected to relocate a small Catholic cemetery on the south shore of Lake Monroe.

Instead, they unceremoniously dumped a bunch of fill dirt on top of the graves.

According to compiled statistics, this disrespect has caused some 2,000 accidents (of varying degrees of severity) along the quarter mile strip of east bound lanes just before the St. Johns River Bridge. That makes it the most accident prone section of highway between Daytona and Tampa.

One of our local tv stations had several "experts" on the air this evening to testify about this so-called "I-4 Dead Zone." They told of orbs, produced some spooky photos, etc.

And, it's not even Halowe'en yet, folks!

I say, fine. So, we've identified the problem. Now, what are we going to do to solve it?!