Creepiest Blog EVER

 
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  Okay, Hallie, it's a COINCIDENCE. Sure, fine, think of it that way. But remember how Monday's post was kind of about the controversy over whether there was ESP? Whether there were ever times our minds connected with somene else's. Right?

Well, first, here's some inside scoop--these posts are often scheduled before the actual day they're up. Imagine that! We're sometimes organized. So. Point is, Julie Hyzy sent me her post a couple of weeks ago.

But because I'm not THAT organized, and because obviously if the amazing and fabulous and successful and beloved Julie Hyzy sends me a post, it's going to be great, I didn't even read it until yesterday.

And--ta dah: look what it's about. HAH.




THE CONNECTION WITH ROBERT?
                by Julie Hyzy

Thank you so much, Hank, for inviting me here to guest blog today!


This past December, my husband and I spent a couple days in Key West (Yep, the gorgeous setting for Lucy Burdette’s Key West Food Critic Mysteries!).

One of the highlights of the trip was the Ghosts and Gravestones Frightseeing Tour where, after dark, we visited the Fort East Martello Museum and Gardens. A caretaker carrying an old fashioned oil lamp appeared as we disembarked from our trolley. He opened tall, creaky iron gates and invited us into the museum’s dark courtyard. “I’m Grimsby,” he said and he led us in to meet…Robert the Doll.

Robert was given to young Robert Eugene Otto in 1906 by his family’s Bahamian servant—a woman schooled in voodoo and black magic. The little boy loved his doll so much (it’s about the size of a four-year-old) that he gave it his own name, Robert, and from then on insisted on being called Gene. Robert the doll has his own website, here. Take a look.

Okay, so, back to the museum.

It was dark, quiet. Our voices echoed and our steps clattered in the cavernous museum.

Robert waited for us inside a Plexiglas case, perched on a small chair. He has coffee bean eyes, and wears a jaunty little sailor suit. Grimsby explained that if we wanted a picture, there were rules: We needed to greet Robert by name, introduce ourselves, and then ask permission to snap a photo. He warned us that if we refused to comply, Robert would become unhappy. He would curse us. Bad things would begin to happen. “He’s done it before.”

Grimsby pointed to a wall of letters from former visitors who’d ignored the advice and were now begging the doll to lift the curse—“He’ll do it again.”

Grimsby’s eyes glittered. “Who’s up first?”

I was.

I stood in front of Robert and regarded him for a long moment. 


“Hello, Robert,” I said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Julie.” 









I giggled a bit at the absurdity of it all. And at that moment, I felt a zing of connection. A weird one. As though Robert… liked me. As though he was lonely and appreciated the visit. But because there was a line of eager photographers behind me, I continued quickly, “Will it be all right if I take your picture? I promise, just one.”

Nothing fell from the ceiling, so I assumed it was okay. I snapped my shot.

There was something compelling about this doll, yet I’d be lying if I said he didn’t creep me out a little bit. I felt as though he was trying to communicate. And yes, I know how silly that sounds.

As we bid the lonely doll a fond adieu, I thought about how much fun it would be to include him in a future book. Not at the White House of course, but if, say, Grace Wheaton (Manor House Mysteries) happened to oversee a supernatural or paranormal convention at Marshfield, Robert could be a fun part of that story. Perfect, I thought. I have my next plot line.

Before I left, I took one last look at Robert. He seemed sorrowful and melancholy in his Plexiglas home. I wondered: Will he be upset with me if I include him in a book? No, I thought, it will be an adventure. I’m convinced he’ll be thrilled.

As I got back outside and took a deep breath of night air, it occurred to me to wonder why I was thinking about him this way at all.

I’m a skeptic. Always have been, always will be. But, Robert… He and I connected. Can’t explain it. Don’t think I want to try.

Have you ever felt a connection like this? Or am I just nuts?

HANK:  I rest my case. (And you know, this was creepy when I first read it. Now it's creepier. And I hope Rovert thinks it's okay that he's on the blog. Did you guys see the Twilight Zone with the fortune-telling machine in the diner?)


Anyway--Let's hear your creepy stories, Reds! And I'll give Julie's brand new White House Chef mystery FONDUING FATHERS to two lucky commenters!

Would You Believe....?

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  The dinner party was going fine.  (it wasn't as fancy as this one at Downton Abbey...) But we had extravagant yellow roses as the centerpiece. Lavish coconut shrimp for everyone, the lovely ginger sauce worked, the beef came out perfectly, the veggies were bright and gorgeous, the conversation was sparkling as the champagne. And no one spilled on the tablecloth.  But then--someone (out of the clear blue :-) ) posed a question to the table.

 Do you, she asked, believe in ESP?

Let me tell you, there were no "maybes." The yesses were as vociferous as the nos.  I'm a big yes---I mean, it doesn't happen ALL the time, and you can't TRY to make it happen, and you can't plan for it, but I've got to tell you, there are things that have happened to me that have no other explanation.

Others scoffed. Impossible! They said. That's not how our brains work.

So then--someone asked: How about intelligent life on other planets? Do you believe in THAT?

Again, there were no "maybes.' Everyone believed what they believed, and had all sorts of reasons why.

And THEN--someone else, it wasn't me--said: If you could absolutely know there was intelligent life on other planets, like--if they actually landed on earth-but in knowing it, you would die...would that knowledge be worth it?

The arguing got so loud I had to stop them with dessert.

But Reds, if you had been at the dinner party--how would you have answered?

LUCY BURDETTE: Well that's one heck of a dinner party Hank!

I might have to break the mold and say maybe to both...ESP? couldn't that be someone being particularly well tuned in to the people and things around them, so what they notice appears out of the ordinary? I'm not saying it doesn't exist, just that there is an explanation that's not sheer woo-woo:)

Now as for ET--I would love to meet HIM. Wasn't he adorable? But would I die to know? Absolutely not. Having too much fun right here right now.

But geez, those answers sound a little dull. Let me know Hank if I need to jazz things up to get invited to the next party, ok?

HANK: Oh, Lucy, of course you're invited. ( In fact..could you cook?) How about you, Rhys?

RHYS BOWEN: I completely believe in ESP. Being half Celt I can cite many examples of connecting with someone halfway around the world (and not via Skype). But intelligent life on other planets? I'd really prefer not to know, because it would rock the security of my spiritual beliefs. If they had three green heads would they have a different God from ours? Or would that definitely prove that we were naive to believe in a higher being?

 ROSEMARY HARRIS: Good grief...I'm trying to remember the conversations at my last get-together. Not nearly as lofty. No one mentioned celebrity weight gains or divorces but I don't recall anyone pondering the universe in quite this way.

 If Lucy thinks her answers are dull, Lord knows what she'll think of these! I don't care about ESP. I know I don't have it. (I also can't play the piano.) If I knew anyone who had it I'd probably be interested in the first few predictions and then ask them to keep the rest of their extra sensory perceptions to themselves. Nobody likes a know it all.

As far as intelligent life on other planets, I'm still busy looking for intelligent life on this planet. Seriously? Sure. Why not? But die to know...nah.

JAN BROGAN - I know, I know, I'm supposed to be beginning my hiatus, and I will after this, but this dinner party was so intriguing, I had to invite myself in.

HANK: Yay, Jan! You are always welcome, and I had a feeling you’d come back for this.. J  Anyway. You were saying?  

 JAN:  J  ESP is not prescience, is it? We aren't talking about making predictions about the future or the stock market, right? Just the being able to communicate beyond the normal bounds with other people and maybe "the other side?" Right?

HANK: Exactly. Just an—extra-sensory…perception.

JAN:  Definitely believe in it, and actually in some of my studies of the brain, I think neuroscience will support some of it - at least the ESP with living people. I think Lucy's right - there's all sorts of different brain structure and function that can account for at least some of it.  That said, I think people have also engineered quite a bit of fraud pretending to have psychic powers to communicate with the dead.

Why does discovery of life on another planet affect your belief system here, Rhys? Maybe they have their own Green God, or maybe God likes a little variety.  I'd love to know about life on another planet, which I think must be going on some where. Would I die to know? Actually die? What would be the point of that?

HALLIE EPHRON: ESP? Pfffff. We just remember the times we're right as opposed to when we're wrong because we're such egotistical creatures. Which is ALSO why we think there isn't intelligent life on other planets. How could there not be, with the universe as massive as it is and most of it unexplored by us?

I'd add the question: Is ANY knowledge worth dying in order to have?

DEBORAH CROMBIE:  I want to come to Hank's dinner parties, too! I'm sure mine are never as interesting... (Does anyone remember Steve Allen's Meeting of Minds? Now those were get-togethers to die for!  (Hank says: Here's Steve chatting with Shakespeare..now THERE'S a party)  But I'm being strictly metaphorical. I would not die to find out if there was life on other planets. There's far to much to enjoy on this planet, and far too much we don't know.

Which brings me to ESP. I don't think I believe in prescience, and I think it would be a curse rather than a gift. I would HATE to know what was going to happen, good or bad. (It would certainly take the fun out of detective fiction.) But I do believe that we sense things and communicate in ways that we have not yet managed to explain scientifically--but that makes them no less real. "There are more things in heaven and earth..." to quote Will.

Nor does the idea of life on other worlds--or other universes--interfere with my spiritual beliefs. I've always thought it was the height of human egotism to make God in our image, and to think we humans were the only thing worth his concern. (I'm only using HIS because of our awkward language restrictions. I think giving God a gender is another egotistical human construct, and obviously, a male one. Sorry, guys.)

HANK: I know, Hallie, some of what is considered “ESP” is often a micro-expression on someone’s face, or empathy, or coincidence. But like Rhys, I’ve had situations for which …well, that there was something more going on.

But I agree, about other life.  Gotta be. And that’s so exciting! Wonder if the 3013 Reds will be saying..can you believe those twenty-first century sisters were so clueless?

What do you all think? (And  hey—Shirley MacLaine—who know we know is Lady Cora’s mother! (whoa) would certainly want to weigh in on this.)

(And who will we see at Malice? ESP us your answers...)     

Tagged #5

HANK: Okay, I'm "it" now. SO here are my seven things. And, then, to complete our assigned task--we get to tag seven more people to tell all. I have a lot more things I could tell. But I only get seven. Lucky you.

1. I'm probably a workaholic. I never take all the vacation days I'm allotted. I think about work--TV reporter and writing my books--much more than I think about anything else. Sometimes I'll realize I've just stopped talking in the middle of a conversation, because something gave me a good idea, and I'm suddenly in another world.

2. I'm ridiculously competitive and I like to win. Charades, Monopoly, Celebrity, Trivial Pursuit. I won't play Scrabble with my husband any more, because he beats me. I almost got all the badges in Girl Scouts, but I couldn't figure out a way to get "Beekeeper"without being around bees. It was all I could do to let my 4 and a half year old grandson beat me at Fish. And even then I thought Eli should learn about losing. I even like to take standardized tests.

3. I stink at sports. You name it, I stink at it. Tennis. Skiing. Softball. Swimming. Whatever other stuff people all do. I'm terrible. (This is where my competitive streak disappears.) Okay, I'm a pretty good softball pitcher, but I can't bat or catch. Not much call for such specialized playing.

4. I kind of do have, um, ESP. From time to time. Or whatever you call it. I saved someone's life when they tried to kill themselves. I was home. I sat up and thought, oh no. He's in trouble. I called. No answer. I beeped. No answer. I called a neighbor. They called the ambulance. He had taken an overdose of sleeping pills. Another time I had a boyfriend. I was home. He was at his house. I thought: oh no. I called him. No answer. I called his sister. He had been taken to the hospital with a ruptured appendix.
Less dramatic stuff happens all the time. But not always.

5. I can wake myself up at any time with some sort of internal alarm clock. I don't totally rely on it because you never know when this kind of thing is going to stop working. But if I tell myself: I'm going to sleep now, I want to wake up at 7:35 in the morning, I will. On the dot.

6. I'm kind of superstitious about some things. Walking under a ladder, why do it? Throwing spilled salt, why not? Rabbit rabbit, yup. Hat on bed? nope. I kind of like Friday the 13th though. Plus, I believe in life on other planets. And possibly time travel.

7. I don't go to sad movies. I haven't seen Steel Magnolias, or Beaches, or Terms of Endearment. I start crying instantly, within ten minutes, because it's so clear to me what the ending is destined to be. The first movie my husband and I saw together was Sling Blade. Which I hadn't known was touching and emotional.
Few minutes in, I started sniffling. It was obvious this movie was on the path to be devastating. My husband-to-be leaned over and said--"do you have a cold?"
I whispered, "No, I'm crying."
He was baffled. "It's not sad," he said.
"I know," I replied. "But it's going to be sad."


NOW! Nancy Pickard tagged us. So that means we can do it, too. Jungle Red writers tag:

The Femmes Fatales http://femmesfatales.typepad.com/
The Plot Monkeys http://plotmonkeys.com/
Poe's Deadly Daughters http://www.poesdeadlydaughters.blogspot.com/
Cathy Cairns http://catherinecairns.com/blog/
Robin Agnew http://heydeadguy.typepad.com/heydeadguy/

You guys are it. And lest you forget, here are the "rules."

1) Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.

2) Share 7 facts about yourself.

3) Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.

4) Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

(Okay, I'll admit it. I was actually kind of fun.)

Did any of us surprise you?