I started a tradition last year at Christmas. I decided I was going to take carrot stew and rolls around to all of my neighbors. This was all inspired when last December I woke up one morning, looked at the house next door and thought, "Oh my gosh! I've lived next door to the same people for 3 1/2 years and I've never met them."
So I made a huge pot of carrot stew, purchased tupper ware from the dollar store, bought a bag of Rhodes frozen rolls because I don't do homemade bread so that's the best people are gonna' get from me, and I made up some homemade Christmas gifts.
It's healthy, it's cheap, and, gosh darn it, people like it!
My family was introduced to this stuff when we lived in Scotland years ago. A lady invited us all over for some carrot stew. I was 12 years old at the time and I remember crinkling up my nose and thinking, "Carrot stew? That sounds weird." But it was amazing and luckily my mother had the good sense to ask the woman for the recipe, which she gladly shared.
Just on a side note, I also remember that the woman lived in a house that was like a maze. It was the strangest floor plan I'd ever seen - but a lot of fun for kids to run around in and play hide and seek. Also, they had a large dog and rabbit that were best friends. Random, I know, but an interesting little tidbit that's connected with the memory of my first carrot stew experience.
Now, I don't know if I make it exactly the same way as the woman or my mother, but here's how I make it so here's what you're gonna' get:
CARROT STEW
6 carrots
3 potatoes
4 celery stalks
1 small onion
1 tsp garlic
Dill
Parsley
Salt
Pepper
Butter
4 Chicken bouillon cubes
Peel carrots and potatoes and put them in a pot to boil.
Finely chop onion and celery and saute in butter with garlic (I use about 2 tablespoons of butter). Add dill, parsley, salt and pepper - as much or as little as you want. I go easy on the salt and pepper, but I add about 1 to 2 tsp each of dill and parsley.
When everything is soft, spoon in carrots and potatoes, then celery and onion mixture, then carrots and potatoes and celery and onion mixture, back and forth until the blender is filled. Puree everything and dump into a bigger pot. (I always spoon in some of the water from the carrot and potato water to the blender so the vegetables will blend up nice and creamy) Then spoon in more carrots and potatoes and celery and onion mixture and puree. Do this until everything has been pureed.
Once everything is in the pot, add a little water until creamy soup is the desired thickness (or thinness - I prefer mine a little thicker and creamier). Add 4 chicken bouillon cubes while soup is simmering. Salt and pepper to taste.
So, there you go.
I quadruple this recipe and it makes enough to give to 10 families.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Who Knew Willcox, AZ Was So Exciting?
My husband plays drums for another band besides The Mending Seed - The Jarred Truschke Band. I'm not sure if that's what it's actually called. Maybe it's just Jarred Truschke. Doesn't really matter. What matters is the music is good. Okay, that's a gross understatement. It's Jack Johnson meets...I don't know. Someone. Someone with cool beats. You'll just have to hear it to believe it. They're working on recording an album within the next two weeks so there will be something to show soon.
ANYWAY....so Jarred is from Willcox, Arizona and Jarred's father put together an event down in Willcox where people from Willcox could share their music with the community. There were other things going on, as well. Sounded cool. Something different. We had been warned that there really wasn't much to do in Willcox, but then we had to weigh in our other hand the fact that we were being provided a free hotel room and the opportunity for Bert to play live on his drums, so we decided to just go and enjoy the event and the time away from our kids.
The plan (okay MY plan) was for us to arrive in town, check in to the hotel, me take a shower and apply make up and put on something decent to wear. About thirty minutes from our destination I was informed that plans had changed. We were to go to Jarred's brother's house. I took note of the time and the fact that the guys were supposed to be on stage in approximately three hours and thought, "Hm. This little plan of mine is looking grim." Therefore, I applied makeup in a bumpy, diesel truck with the sun beating on me, washing out my face. You could say I looked like a $2 hooker. Sorry. That's what happens when the mirror tells you your face has no color so you proceed to apply five layers of blush only to discover at a later hour in a bathroom mirror with better lighting that...you look like a $2 hooker.
I then did a quick look over of my hairdo. It wasn't too bad. I figured a bit of pomade and some flat ironing action in Jarred's brother's bathroom would be good enough under the circumstances.
And then we arrived in Willcox. We headed straight to Jarred's brother, Jonathan's house and they welcomed us into their beautiful remodeled home and filled us up with delicious homemade shredded pork tacos. I took a trip to their beach-themed bathroom and emerged stating, "Wow. That is a nice bathroom. That's nicer than any room in my house." We enjoyed visiting with them and hearing about their life in Willcox. Turns out it's much more exciting down there than I thought.
Not only is a good portion of the town haunted, but Jonathan, a high school English teacher, has some interesting stories. He told us a story of one of his students showing up one day with a knife. He confiscated the knife and turned it into the front office only to be informed the kid was a convicted felon.
Good to know.
The kid was expelled and sentenced for bringing a knife to school. The end.
Or not.
He showed up some time later, burst into Jonathan's classroom and threatened his life. Fortunately he was caught before laying hands on Jonathan, but the good news is he's just recently moved in RIGHT across the street. And they lived happily ever after.
And by happily ever after I mean Jonathan had to file an injunction so that the kid couldn't harrass him (actually the kid is an adult now) and so the guy doesn't dare say a word to Jonathan. He just stands out front with his pit bull and stares Jonathan down while he mows his lawn...and also spits on any guest's vehicles, as we discovered a short time later. Nice.
"Sorry about my neighbors", Jonathan apologized. "I promise my street is nice, except for the people across the street, which includes a lady who's under house arrest right now and wears an ankle bracelet."
"That guy who threatened your life lives with some lady with an ankle bracelet? Wow. What is she? His girlfriend or something?" I asked, completely appalled.
"No", he replied. "It's his mom."
THAT EXPLAINS IT ALL!
After giving our condolences, we checked the time and realized we needed to get down to the park. It was almost time to play.
Upon arriving at the event, our ears were assaulted by some character in a sparkly blue sequined shirt moaning some Neil Diamond tunes. As the time ticked on and 7:30 fast approached...and came and went...and the guys were still waiting in the wings for Neil Diamond's yawn-worthy twin to come out of his self-induced hypnotic state and get off the stage, we got a little nervous. There was no place for Bert's electronic drum set. We asked the sound guy if we could pull some of the acoustic set off and he said, "Nope. Can't move it." So we went for plan B and set Bert's drums up in front of the stage.
That scared 'em off!
The people were scrambling with their lawn chairs and belongings, trying to get as far back as possible. I thought, "Um...those are electronic, i.e. they plug into an amp and have a volume control, but...okay." I sat proudly in front - by myself.
Then the trouble started. Bert's electronic drums weren't coming through the amp properly. They tried to fix the problem alone, then looked around for the sound guy. He was nowhere to be found. We were on our own. With no knowledge of how and where the system was dialed in, we were left to fend for ourselves and failed miserably. Fifteen minutes passed before I whispered to Bert, "Babe! You've wasted 15 minutes. Hop up on those acoustic drums or get off the stage and leave Jarred to do his thing. QUICK!" He opted for the acoustic drum set on stage. And so, finally, their set began. There was feedback, Bert couldn't hear Jarred AT ALL, and Jarred's microphone was way too soft, which, despite cranking full volume on it, never got any louder.
"Where the heck is the dang sound guy?" was all we could think.
After two songs, the sound guy magically reappeared! And shouted "4 minutes!" That was it. He let the Neil Diamond wannabe go five minutes over, he disappeared on us, and then he gave the guys the chance to play only 3 songs. We drove 3 1/2 hours for them to play THREE SONGS! The moment they finished their third song, the sound guy leaped up on the stage, grabbed a different mic, which was cranked up, and shouted, "This next band is something you haven't heard in a while, folks. I'm proud to introduce the..." I have no idea what he said after that. I was flabbergasted. It doesn't get any more unprofessional and rude than that.
In a surprising news flash - the next band up was THE SOUND GUY'S BAND! SURPRISE!
We certainly weren't.
Oh, not only was it his band, it was one of THREE bands he had booked for that night, giving all three of his bands one-hour sets and everyone else 30 minutes.
Not cool.
And also his bands were lame...unless you enjoy watching 50 to 60-year-old's drawl old country western tunes.
To say we were angry was a gross understatement. We were piss and vinegar mad. As we took our equipment back to the truck, Bert relayed the fact that some old lady behind the stage was yelling at him to play the drums softer....like the old dudes before him who gently tapped out a simple beat.
When he told me later that he couldn't hear Jarred at all and had some old lady yelling at him while he played, I was shocked. You never would have known. He was right on with Jarred, which is a testament to both musician's skills - Bert can play from memory on songs he doesn't know well and Jarred can keep up.
The good news: A photographer from the local paper took photos of the guys playing and later asked Jarred's wife (not knowing she was his wife), "Who is this band? They're really good." We also heard the next morning that other people approached Jarred's father and wanted to know what type of music he was playing and lamented that they wished they could have heard more.
In karma news: The rude dude who was more interested in promoting himself blew out his amp and had to end his set early. And also the old lady who yelled at Bert was the rude dude's wife. This dude ended up throwing stuff and yelling at his own wife in the end.
That darn karma. Gotta' watch out for that.
And so the night ended. Well...our night at the event. And we took off back to Jonathan's house.
I thought perhaps we'd visit a while, then head to our hotel room, watch a little TV and fall asleep.
"You guys wanna' go ghost hunting?" Jarred asked.
We perked right up.
Jarred and Jonathan have a grandmother who has lived with a ghost for years. Her house is actually registered as a haunted house in Willcox. She no longer lives in it, but the bank hasn't changed the locks, so we had full access.
"The house is creepy", we were informed. "Just wait 'til you see the outside of it. It's got kind of a Hitler 'stache goin' on." Sure enough, the little old house had two bushes on each side, pretty much resembling a Hitler 'stache. In the creepy looks department, it didn't disappoint. Knowing it was a registered haunted house might have enhanced it a bit.
We did a quick glance about the street to make sure nobody was watching us enter a well known vacant property - we didn't want any cops surprising us - and then stepped into the front room. The floor felt unstable beneath our feet, the air heavy. It smelled old and musty. My heart immediately broke into an even gallop. I tried to steady my breathing to slow it down, but to no avail.
"Hi Julia", Jarred half-whispered. "We're back, but we promise we're not going to hurt you."
My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. This is really happening." I thought to myself. I parted my lips in the eerily street-lit front room to let more air into my tightened lungs. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my heart leaped at the casting of shadows about the bare walls.
"She's here", Jarred informed us. "I can feel her."
"Oh my gosh", I thought again as I gulped and rolled my eyes backward, bracing myself against the wall. Though I've had many paranormal encounters, it's not something I generally seek out. I think it's safe to say I was terrified. I believe in ghosts. I had heard the stories associated with this house. And I believed she was there too. I just didn't want any personal confirmation of that. And I wasn't fully prepared for anyone to actually try to communicate with her right from the get go.
We went through a brief tour of the house, walking room to room as Jarred and Jonathan explained what room we were in each time. As we passed through the hallway into what looked like a dining room, I pointed to a door to my left. "What's in here?" I asked.
"That's where it gets creepy", Jarred replied.
I shuddered. "So, this is the dining room. Nice." I quickly changed the subject and tried to keep the mood light for my own sake. We toured the kitchen next.
"Be careful of the floor. It's really soft", Jarred warned. "A lot of activity happens in here."
I drew in a deep breath and blew it out, then tried to talk myself out of bolting.
Upon leaving the kitchen through the second entrance, Jarred asked, "Shall we go to the room?"
"The scary room?" I confirmed. "Where scary stuff happens?"
Jarred laughed then turned to his brother. "Do you wanna' lock the front door?"
"No", was Jonathan's prompt reply. "That's the last thing I wanna' do."
I chuckled...and silently agreed.
We were then led down a narrow hallway where the door to the room sat positioned at the very end, the door itself only slightly ajar. As we entered the room, we were informed that this was where a lady named Julia died. And also that several years, when the room underwent major renovations, which sparked all of the paranormal activity, some letters were found hidden in a wall - letters that Julia had written to herself. Letters that portrayed the madness that loomed inside her mind.
"What did the letters say?" Bertrand asked.
Just then a noise in the house startled us. "Did you hear that?" The guys all asked in unison. We all then confirmed that we had.
Just then I noticed something on the wall. Something written. I squinted in the dark and asked, "What's this on the wall?" Immediately thereafter I wasn't so sure I wanted to know.
"Oh, that's just something my mom painted on the wall when she was a teenager", Jarred replied casually.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh. Okay."
Next we explored the master bedroom. At this point of the tour I vocalized my observation that every single cupboard in the house was open. Every single one. For some reason that just creeped me out. It just enhanced the creepiness. I mean, seriously - why is every single cupboard hanging wide open? It's scary. You had to be there.
Okay, moving on.
We walked single file down the narrow hallway back to the front room and at this point decided to do an EVP session - electronic voice phenomenon. It captures voices that you can't hear with your own ears. We stood at one end of the hallway and looked down into the room where the most activity happens. We had left the door completely wide open when we left so we could see right into the room from our end.
With Ghost Radars in hand, Bertrand and Jarred began speaking in soothing tones to Julia, inviting her to come closer with the promise that they wouldn't do her any harm. I gulped hard and remained completely still, looking over Bertrand's shoulder down the hall. I was impressed at how casually and easily the two men could speak with this unknown presence. I certainly wasn't going to say a word and seemingly neither was Jonathan. I looked away briefly and stared out a side window, trying to calm myself.
Suddenly Jarred gasped. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah!" Bertrand responded with excitement.
"What?" I asked, my anxiety increasing. "What did you just see?"
They both explained that a shadowy figure had passed by the doorway of the room.
I shuddered, but remained silent.
"Julia. Come closer to me", Bertrand invited. "Let me know that you're here."
I grit my teeth, my breathing becoming more shallow.
Just then the Ghost Radar showed movement of a figure moving down the hall toward Bertrand. A few seconds later he exclaimed, "I just felt a breath on my face, like someone was softly blowing." Then he showed us his arms. He had goosebumps. "I can feel her. She's right next to me."
I didn't doubt that. But I also didn't want to acknowledge or feel it, so I remained silent, as did Jonathan.
"Should we sit down in a circle?" Jarred asked.
"No", came Jonathan's prompt response.
I chuckled nervously. "I agree. I'm not sitting down."
A short while later we saw lights from the street as though a car had approached. Fearing someone had seen our car out front of the house and called the cops we decided to leave quick. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I relaxed the moment I walked down the front steps and into the open air.
We hopped into the car quick and sped off.
Our next stop - the old Pioneer Cemetery on the edge of town. Bertrand and I were informed that this was where Warren Earp was buried.
"Who?" We both asked.
"Warren", Jonathan and Jarred replied. "The youngest brother of Wyatt Earp."
We had never heard of him.
Apparently he wasn't involved in the OK Corral incident in Tombstone, though he did live there and serve as a deputy for a time under his older brother, Virgil. There's a whole history with Warren, though he's not as famous as his older brothers. Apparently Warren had a hot temper and people close to him often predicted he would die a violent death one day as a result. Sure enough in 1900, he was shot inside the Brown Saloon in Willcox, AZ after verbally abusing a man in a fight over (supposedly) a prostitute they were both interested in.
And now we were being driven down a dark, winding, dirt road in the middle of the night to his grave site.
"No flashlights this time", Jarred said to Jonathan.
Bertrand and I glanced at each other with concern in the back seat.
The brothers proceeded with a tale of caretakers who live a short distance from the old cemetery. They don't like people prowling late at night and so if they see anything suspicious, they'll come after you.
"And you don't go running after strangers in a cemetery in the middle of the night without some kind of protection", Jarred chuckled.
"What do you mean", I asked, apprehensively.
"Oh, they'll probably be carrying guns."
I shot a look of horror at Bertrand.
"Um...maybe we shouldn't do this", I said, trying to back out.
"Oh, we'll be fine", Jarred assured me. "We just have to be quiet."
Upon our arrival to the cemetery, we exited the car and stared in the direction of the caretaker's house, squinting in the dark for signs of any movement.
"Okay. I don't see anything right now. I think we're okay", Jonathan informed us.
And so we made our way to the cemetery entrance.
"There's a gate?!" Jarred exclaimed.
"It's locked", Jonathan replied.
"Oh well. I guess we can't go this time." I said.
"Nah", said Jarred. "We can just climb over."
My eyes widened in horror as the three men proceeded to enter the cemetery.
The gate was only mid thigh high for me, but still...we were blatantly trespassing in the middle of the night with the prospect of being hunted down by armed men if we were discovered.
Once inside, we squinted in the dimly moonlit cemetery with its man-made horseshoe path before us. The grave sites were intermingled with gnarly desert shrubbery, somewhat camouflaging the ominous feel of such a place.
My fear instantly shifted as fresh wild javelina tracks were pointed out on the walkway. I felt my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my breathing turning to pants as I attempted to clarify, "So, basically there's a better chance we'll be attacked by a wild animal or shot out here than actually seeing a ghost?"
"Right", Jarred confirmed with a chuckle.
"Great", I replied weakly.
My attention was then directed to the very back of the cemetery where the light of the moon danced off something metallic.
"See that metallic light shining back there?" Jonathan said, pointing it out with his finger.
"Uh huh", I replied.
"That's Warren's grave."
He walked ahead as I stood frozen, trying to identify what I feared most at this moment.
Eventually my legs responded to my brain and I was able to make my way to the back of the cemetery where we came upon the monument to Warren Earp. We walked about a few minutes more, my fear of wild animals and gun-toting caretakers still overshadowing any fear one might typically associate with midnight cemetery strolls.
Suddenly Jonathan gasped. "Did you hear that?" He whispered.
We all froze and squinted in the direction of the caretaker's house.
"I think someone's coming", he stated.
"Oh my gosh. Let's get out of here right now!" I whispered harshly.
We began to make our way back as quickly, yet quietly as we could, the occasional sticker jumping out and stabbing into my bare flip-flop clad feet. I stopped occasionally and bent down to remove the sticker.
"You all right?" The guys asked.
"Yeah", I whispered. "I just keep getting stickers in my feet and they hurt, but I wanna' get out of here quick, so keep going. I'm coming."
Suddenly Jonathan froze again. "Oh yeah. I see something moving out there."
We all froze. "What?" I asked in a shaky voice. "What is it?"
"I think it's some kind of animal. It's lower to the ground", he replied.
I gulped loudly and said a silent prayer. "Please, God. Please don't let any wildebeests eat me. I promise I won't do anything naughty like this ever again. I've got little children back home that need a mommy. I know I often say I wish you'd take them away, but I was just kidding. Please don't let me die. Not now. Not like this."
I held my breath and pushed forward, ignoring my possible hideous fate. I had one objective - get to the car ASAP - and I wasn't going to let any fear hold me back at this point.
As you can obviously tell, we all survived the night. And what an exciting night it was! The town is FULL of haunted locations and I hope to return one day soon and do some more exploring.
And also, thanks to the universe taking care of business for us, we just might return and play the event again next year - this time with our OWN sound system! That rude dude hasn't seen the last of us, although I've learned through history and my experiences that night that you don't wanna' mess with an old, infamous wild west town - not even in THIS day and age! Anyone who said the old west will never die wasn't lying.
ANYWAY....so Jarred is from Willcox, Arizona and Jarred's father put together an event down in Willcox where people from Willcox could share their music with the community. There were other things going on, as well. Sounded cool. Something different. We had been warned that there really wasn't much to do in Willcox, but then we had to weigh in our other hand the fact that we were being provided a free hotel room and the opportunity for Bert to play live on his drums, so we decided to just go and enjoy the event and the time away from our kids.
The plan (okay MY plan) was for us to arrive in town, check in to the hotel, me take a shower and apply make up and put on something decent to wear. About thirty minutes from our destination I was informed that plans had changed. We were to go to Jarred's brother's house. I took note of the time and the fact that the guys were supposed to be on stage in approximately three hours and thought, "Hm. This little plan of mine is looking grim." Therefore, I applied makeup in a bumpy, diesel truck with the sun beating on me, washing out my face. You could say I looked like a $2 hooker. Sorry. That's what happens when the mirror tells you your face has no color so you proceed to apply five layers of blush only to discover at a later hour in a bathroom mirror with better lighting that...you look like a $2 hooker.
I then did a quick look over of my hairdo. It wasn't too bad. I figured a bit of pomade and some flat ironing action in Jarred's brother's bathroom would be good enough under the circumstances.
And then we arrived in Willcox. We headed straight to Jarred's brother, Jonathan's house and they welcomed us into their beautiful remodeled home and filled us up with delicious homemade shredded pork tacos. I took a trip to their beach-themed bathroom and emerged stating, "Wow. That is a nice bathroom. That's nicer than any room in my house." We enjoyed visiting with them and hearing about their life in Willcox. Turns out it's much more exciting down there than I thought.
Not only is a good portion of the town haunted, but Jonathan, a high school English teacher, has some interesting stories. He told us a story of one of his students showing up one day with a knife. He confiscated the knife and turned it into the front office only to be informed the kid was a convicted felon.
Good to know.
The kid was expelled and sentenced for bringing a knife to school. The end.
Or not.
He showed up some time later, burst into Jonathan's classroom and threatened his life. Fortunately he was caught before laying hands on Jonathan, but the good news is he's just recently moved in RIGHT across the street. And they lived happily ever after.
And by happily ever after I mean Jonathan had to file an injunction so that the kid couldn't harrass him (actually the kid is an adult now) and so the guy doesn't dare say a word to Jonathan. He just stands out front with his pit bull and stares Jonathan down while he mows his lawn...and also spits on any guest's vehicles, as we discovered a short time later. Nice.
"Sorry about my neighbors", Jonathan apologized. "I promise my street is nice, except for the people across the street, which includes a lady who's under house arrest right now and wears an ankle bracelet."
"That guy who threatened your life lives with some lady with an ankle bracelet? Wow. What is she? His girlfriend or something?" I asked, completely appalled.
"No", he replied. "It's his mom."
THAT EXPLAINS IT ALL!
After giving our condolences, we checked the time and realized we needed to get down to the park. It was almost time to play.
Upon arriving at the event, our ears were assaulted by some character in a sparkly blue sequined shirt moaning some Neil Diamond tunes. As the time ticked on and 7:30 fast approached...and came and went...and the guys were still waiting in the wings for Neil Diamond's yawn-worthy twin to come out of his self-induced hypnotic state and get off the stage, we got a little nervous. There was no place for Bert's electronic drum set. We asked the sound guy if we could pull some of the acoustic set off and he said, "Nope. Can't move it." So we went for plan B and set Bert's drums up in front of the stage.
That scared 'em off!
The people were scrambling with their lawn chairs and belongings, trying to get as far back as possible. I thought, "Um...those are electronic, i.e. they plug into an amp and have a volume control, but...okay." I sat proudly in front - by myself.
Then the trouble started. Bert's electronic drums weren't coming through the amp properly. They tried to fix the problem alone, then looked around for the sound guy. He was nowhere to be found. We were on our own. With no knowledge of how and where the system was dialed in, we were left to fend for ourselves and failed miserably. Fifteen minutes passed before I whispered to Bert, "Babe! You've wasted 15 minutes. Hop up on those acoustic drums or get off the stage and leave Jarred to do his thing. QUICK!" He opted for the acoustic drum set on stage. And so, finally, their set began. There was feedback, Bert couldn't hear Jarred AT ALL, and Jarred's microphone was way too soft, which, despite cranking full volume on it, never got any louder.
"Where the heck is the dang sound guy?" was all we could think.
After two songs, the sound guy magically reappeared! And shouted "4 minutes!" That was it. He let the Neil Diamond wannabe go five minutes over, he disappeared on us, and then he gave the guys the chance to play only 3 songs. We drove 3 1/2 hours for them to play THREE SONGS! The moment they finished their third song, the sound guy leaped up on the stage, grabbed a different mic, which was cranked up, and shouted, "This next band is something you haven't heard in a while, folks. I'm proud to introduce the..." I have no idea what he said after that. I was flabbergasted. It doesn't get any more unprofessional and rude than that.
In a surprising news flash - the next band up was THE SOUND GUY'S BAND! SURPRISE!
We certainly weren't.
Oh, not only was it his band, it was one of THREE bands he had booked for that night, giving all three of his bands one-hour sets and everyone else 30 minutes.
Not cool.
And also his bands were lame...unless you enjoy watching 50 to 60-year-old's drawl old country western tunes.
To say we were angry was a gross understatement. We were piss and vinegar mad. As we took our equipment back to the truck, Bert relayed the fact that some old lady behind the stage was yelling at him to play the drums softer....like the old dudes before him who gently tapped out a simple beat.
When he told me later that he couldn't hear Jarred at all and had some old lady yelling at him while he played, I was shocked. You never would have known. He was right on with Jarred, which is a testament to both musician's skills - Bert can play from memory on songs he doesn't know well and Jarred can keep up.
The good news: A photographer from the local paper took photos of the guys playing and later asked Jarred's wife (not knowing she was his wife), "Who is this band? They're really good." We also heard the next morning that other people approached Jarred's father and wanted to know what type of music he was playing and lamented that they wished they could have heard more.
In karma news: The rude dude who was more interested in promoting himself blew out his amp and had to end his set early. And also the old lady who yelled at Bert was the rude dude's wife. This dude ended up throwing stuff and yelling at his own wife in the end.
That darn karma. Gotta' watch out for that.
And so the night ended. Well...our night at the event. And we took off back to Jonathan's house.
I thought perhaps we'd visit a while, then head to our hotel room, watch a little TV and fall asleep.
"You guys wanna' go ghost hunting?" Jarred asked.
We perked right up.
Jarred and Jonathan have a grandmother who has lived with a ghost for years. Her house is actually registered as a haunted house in Willcox. She no longer lives in it, but the bank hasn't changed the locks, so we had full access.
"The house is creepy", we were informed. "Just wait 'til you see the outside of it. It's got kind of a Hitler 'stache goin' on." Sure enough, the little old house had two bushes on each side, pretty much resembling a Hitler 'stache. In the creepy looks department, it didn't disappoint. Knowing it was a registered haunted house might have enhanced it a bit.
We did a quick glance about the street to make sure nobody was watching us enter a well known vacant property - we didn't want any cops surprising us - and then stepped into the front room. The floor felt unstable beneath our feet, the air heavy. It smelled old and musty. My heart immediately broke into an even gallop. I tried to steady my breathing to slow it down, but to no avail.
"Hi Julia", Jarred half-whispered. "We're back, but we promise we're not going to hurt you."
My eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. This is really happening." I thought to myself. I parted my lips in the eerily street-lit front room to let more air into my tightened lungs. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my heart leaped at the casting of shadows about the bare walls.
"She's here", Jarred informed us. "I can feel her."
"Oh my gosh", I thought again as I gulped and rolled my eyes backward, bracing myself against the wall. Though I've had many paranormal encounters, it's not something I generally seek out. I think it's safe to say I was terrified. I believe in ghosts. I had heard the stories associated with this house. And I believed she was there too. I just didn't want any personal confirmation of that. And I wasn't fully prepared for anyone to actually try to communicate with her right from the get go.
We went through a brief tour of the house, walking room to room as Jarred and Jonathan explained what room we were in each time. As we passed through the hallway into what looked like a dining room, I pointed to a door to my left. "What's in here?" I asked.
"That's where it gets creepy", Jarred replied.
I shuddered. "So, this is the dining room. Nice." I quickly changed the subject and tried to keep the mood light for my own sake. We toured the kitchen next.
"Be careful of the floor. It's really soft", Jarred warned. "A lot of activity happens in here."
I drew in a deep breath and blew it out, then tried to talk myself out of bolting.
Upon leaving the kitchen through the second entrance, Jarred asked, "Shall we go to the room?"
"The scary room?" I confirmed. "Where scary stuff happens?"
Jarred laughed then turned to his brother. "Do you wanna' lock the front door?"
"No", was Jonathan's prompt reply. "That's the last thing I wanna' do."
I chuckled...and silently agreed.
We were then led down a narrow hallway where the door to the room sat positioned at the very end, the door itself only slightly ajar. As we entered the room, we were informed that this was where a lady named Julia died. And also that several years, when the room underwent major renovations, which sparked all of the paranormal activity, some letters were found hidden in a wall - letters that Julia had written to herself. Letters that portrayed the madness that loomed inside her mind.
"What did the letters say?" Bertrand asked.
Just then a noise in the house startled us. "Did you hear that?" The guys all asked in unison. We all then confirmed that we had.
Just then I noticed something on the wall. Something written. I squinted in the dark and asked, "What's this on the wall?" Immediately thereafter I wasn't so sure I wanted to know.
"Oh, that's just something my mom painted on the wall when she was a teenager", Jarred replied casually.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Oh. Okay."
Next we explored the master bedroom. At this point of the tour I vocalized my observation that every single cupboard in the house was open. Every single one. For some reason that just creeped me out. It just enhanced the creepiness. I mean, seriously - why is every single cupboard hanging wide open? It's scary. You had to be there.
Okay, moving on.
We walked single file down the narrow hallway back to the front room and at this point decided to do an EVP session - electronic voice phenomenon. It captures voices that you can't hear with your own ears. We stood at one end of the hallway and looked down into the room where the most activity happens. We had left the door completely wide open when we left so we could see right into the room from our end.
With Ghost Radars in hand, Bertrand and Jarred began speaking in soothing tones to Julia, inviting her to come closer with the promise that they wouldn't do her any harm. I gulped hard and remained completely still, looking over Bertrand's shoulder down the hall. I was impressed at how casually and easily the two men could speak with this unknown presence. I certainly wasn't going to say a word and seemingly neither was Jonathan. I looked away briefly and stared out a side window, trying to calm myself.
Suddenly Jarred gasped. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah!" Bertrand responded with excitement.
"What?" I asked, my anxiety increasing. "What did you just see?"
They both explained that a shadowy figure had passed by the doorway of the room.
I shuddered, but remained silent.
"Julia. Come closer to me", Bertrand invited. "Let me know that you're here."
I grit my teeth, my breathing becoming more shallow.
Just then the Ghost Radar showed movement of a figure moving down the hall toward Bertrand. A few seconds later he exclaimed, "I just felt a breath on my face, like someone was softly blowing." Then he showed us his arms. He had goosebumps. "I can feel her. She's right next to me."
I didn't doubt that. But I also didn't want to acknowledge or feel it, so I remained silent, as did Jonathan.
"Should we sit down in a circle?" Jarred asked.
"No", came Jonathan's prompt response.
I chuckled nervously. "I agree. I'm not sitting down."
A short while later we saw lights from the street as though a car had approached. Fearing someone had seen our car out front of the house and called the cops we decided to leave quick. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I relaxed the moment I walked down the front steps and into the open air.
We hopped into the car quick and sped off.
Our next stop - the old Pioneer Cemetery on the edge of town. Bertrand and I were informed that this was where Warren Earp was buried.
"Who?" We both asked.
"Warren", Jonathan and Jarred replied. "The youngest brother of Wyatt Earp."
We had never heard of him.
Apparently he wasn't involved in the OK Corral incident in Tombstone, though he did live there and serve as a deputy for a time under his older brother, Virgil. There's a whole history with Warren, though he's not as famous as his older brothers. Apparently Warren had a hot temper and people close to him often predicted he would die a violent death one day as a result. Sure enough in 1900, he was shot inside the Brown Saloon in Willcox, AZ after verbally abusing a man in a fight over (supposedly) a prostitute they were both interested in.
And now we were being driven down a dark, winding, dirt road in the middle of the night to his grave site.
"No flashlights this time", Jarred said to Jonathan.
Bertrand and I glanced at each other with concern in the back seat.
The brothers proceeded with a tale of caretakers who live a short distance from the old cemetery. They don't like people prowling late at night and so if they see anything suspicious, they'll come after you.
"And you don't go running after strangers in a cemetery in the middle of the night without some kind of protection", Jarred chuckled.
"What do you mean", I asked, apprehensively.
"Oh, they'll probably be carrying guns."
I shot a look of horror at Bertrand.
"Um...maybe we shouldn't do this", I said, trying to back out.
"Oh, we'll be fine", Jarred assured me. "We just have to be quiet."
Upon our arrival to the cemetery, we exited the car and stared in the direction of the caretaker's house, squinting in the dark for signs of any movement.
"Okay. I don't see anything right now. I think we're okay", Jonathan informed us.
And so we made our way to the cemetery entrance.
"There's a gate?!" Jarred exclaimed.
"It's locked", Jonathan replied.
"Oh well. I guess we can't go this time." I said.
"Nah", said Jarred. "We can just climb over."
My eyes widened in horror as the three men proceeded to enter the cemetery.
The gate was only mid thigh high for me, but still...we were blatantly trespassing in the middle of the night with the prospect of being hunted down by armed men if we were discovered.
Once inside, we squinted in the dimly moonlit cemetery with its man-made horseshoe path before us. The grave sites were intermingled with gnarly desert shrubbery, somewhat camouflaging the ominous feel of such a place.
My fear instantly shifted as fresh wild javelina tracks were pointed out on the walkway. I felt my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my breathing turning to pants as I attempted to clarify, "So, basically there's a better chance we'll be attacked by a wild animal or shot out here than actually seeing a ghost?"
"Right", Jarred confirmed with a chuckle.
"Great", I replied weakly.
My attention was then directed to the very back of the cemetery where the light of the moon danced off something metallic.
"See that metallic light shining back there?" Jonathan said, pointing it out with his finger.
"Uh huh", I replied.
"That's Warren's grave."
He walked ahead as I stood frozen, trying to identify what I feared most at this moment.
Eventually my legs responded to my brain and I was able to make my way to the back of the cemetery where we came upon the monument to Warren Earp. We walked about a few minutes more, my fear of wild animals and gun-toting caretakers still overshadowing any fear one might typically associate with midnight cemetery strolls.
Suddenly Jonathan gasped. "Did you hear that?" He whispered.
We all froze and squinted in the direction of the caretaker's house.
"I think someone's coming", he stated.
"Oh my gosh. Let's get out of here right now!" I whispered harshly.
We began to make our way back as quickly, yet quietly as we could, the occasional sticker jumping out and stabbing into my bare flip-flop clad feet. I stopped occasionally and bent down to remove the sticker.
"You all right?" The guys asked.
"Yeah", I whispered. "I just keep getting stickers in my feet and they hurt, but I wanna' get out of here quick, so keep going. I'm coming."
Suddenly Jonathan froze again. "Oh yeah. I see something moving out there."
We all froze. "What?" I asked in a shaky voice. "What is it?"
"I think it's some kind of animal. It's lower to the ground", he replied.
I gulped loudly and said a silent prayer. "Please, God. Please don't let any wildebeests eat me. I promise I won't do anything naughty like this ever again. I've got little children back home that need a mommy. I know I often say I wish you'd take them away, but I was just kidding. Please don't let me die. Not now. Not like this."
I held my breath and pushed forward, ignoring my possible hideous fate. I had one objective - get to the car ASAP - and I wasn't going to let any fear hold me back at this point.
As you can obviously tell, we all survived the night. And what an exciting night it was! The town is FULL of haunted locations and I hope to return one day soon and do some more exploring.
And also, thanks to the universe taking care of business for us, we just might return and play the event again next year - this time with our OWN sound system! That rude dude hasn't seen the last of us, although I've learned through history and my experiences that night that you don't wanna' mess with an old, infamous wild west town - not even in THIS day and age! Anyone who said the old west will never die wasn't lying.
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