By Georgia Osten
The word Poltergeist, derived from the German poltern (to knock) and geist (spirits), or ‘Noisy Spirit.’ They are generally defined as mischievous Spirits. Such activities as raps, bumps, thumps, knocks, footsteps, and bed shaking, other activities including objects being thrown about the room, rains of dirt or other small objects, vile smells, furniture being moved, and even people being levitated or assaulted. What I’m leading up to is a conversation I had with my sister-in-law the other day.

Ah, Lizzie … Lizzie can be defined as a Free Spirit, eccentric, quite whimsical, a “march-to-the-beat-of-her-own-drum” sort of person. Lizzie cleans houses for a local realtor on the Peninsula and needless to say, as you may imagine, she is quite busy this time of year. This is a very time consuming and exhausting job, and I quite admire her endurance and determination. One of the houses she is responsible to clean is a VERY famous historical residence, I will keep the exact location anonymous in order to protect the owners/spirits involved – I’ll let your imaginations conjure up their own visions.

On this particular Saturday, as Lizzie was cleaning, she came upon what she thought could be an endangering setting. Piled up against the foot of the double bed were 4 or 5 bicycles and a coffee table up against the bicycles. She knew she needed to change the sheets on the bed, walk around the bed and re-make the bed and not wanting to fall in the process, oh my goodness, all this stuff would have to be moved to avoid an accident. Instead, she thought she might just go begin the laundry and proceeded to go into the bathroom to gather towels to get the laundry started in the washer & dryer located in the bathroom closet.

Upon walking back out to the bedroom to go ahead and get stuff moved, she gasped as chills ran down the back of her neck. All the bikes and the table had been moved away from the foot of the bed to enable safe passage around the bed. Lizzie was shaken out of her wits! Crazy, I tell you! I asked her if the little devil went ahead and remade the bed for her too??

Readers: Let me hear your stories, this Peninsula has to be full of gobbledygook.

PS: I’ve algo got another one for later, about Sara who lived in the trunk on the 3rd floor of Casa Blanca – true story!

GO’s Sand Bucket is only one beach bum’s journal of life at the beach, probably something each of you can relate to. Please feel free to email me with your thoughts, visions and/or feelings of just exactly what the beach means to you.

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