I have seen a ghost. Well, I
think it was a ghost. It might have been. I dunno.
Years ago I was doing some genealogy research and I was combing an old cemetery in Pennsylvania looking at tombstones. An old man, who appeared to be a groundskeeper, came over and asked what I was looking for. I told him I was looking for my great-great grandfather’s grave and I gave him my ancestor’s name. He suggested I look over in a different area of the cemetery. I walked over there and found the grave I was looking for.
Later that afternoon, I was interviewing an elderly lady (in her 90s) who had grown up in the house next door to my great-great grandfather’s house. She produced an old family photo album that included some old sepia-toned photographs. In one of the old photos was a man she said was my great-great grandfather.
The man in the picture was the same man I met in the cemetery earlier in the day who had directed me to my great-great grandfather’s grave.
I went back to the cemetery and could not find the man anywhere. I also inquired with some of the local undertakers and none of them had ever heard of the man I described.
Hey, I know what I saw. Today I have his picture over my fireplace mantle.