Ghost story only sort of Civil War related

major bill

Brev. Brig. Gen'l
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Joined
Aug 25, 2012
A few years back a small cemetery was doing a cemetery walk. My g-g-grandmother was one of the people being "honored" and a young lady who was from the local high school dressed up as my g-g-grandmother and told her story. I almost did not go, but my daughter wanted me to go with her.

Over the last decade the local historical society had be raising funds to redo the interior of a family mausoleum . This had been locked for over 50 years and no one had entered over those years and thus it needed work. They did a great job and all the stained glass windows and wood interior looked simply wonderful. To celebrate the completion of the restoration the local historical society put drinks and food on tables inside the old mausoleum.

Well I am not one to skip free cookies and ice tea so in I went. All the folding chairs were taken so I sit on the small ledge in front of a couple brass name plates. Out of respect I did not set in front of the resting place of the poor dead Civil War soldier, but instead sit in front of his wife. So far no problems, but wait.

As soon as I sit down on the ledge in front of the dead Civil War soldier's wife, the soldier's brass name plate came lose and partly opening, hit me on the shoulder. I did not look into the partly opened crypt to see his bones but could not be totally sure if the dead soldiers was inviting me in to his crypt or if perhaps he had a problem with me sitting by his wife.

Although I finished my skeleton shaped cookie and sipped my ice tea, I was a bit shaken by his bras name plate bumping my shoulder. I also thought I felt a cold light breeze on the back of my neck coming from the partially open crypt. Plus the escaping air had a kind of musty boney smell. So I was not unhappy when we moved on to my g-g-grandmothers grave. Well her grave stone at least because she was buried on the old family farm and a future owner plowed up her skull. But no worries, he donated it to the local high school. When my dad went to the school it was still on display. The school had got rid of it before the young lady who played my g-g-grandmother started school.

So although I can not verify it was in fact a ghost, and I never even took a peak at his bones in the crypt, I could sort of call this a Civil War ghost story and a true story at that.

I visit the cemetery several times per year and always seem to "accidentally" park my car several parking places away from the old family mausoleum. See I am not afraid of some old Civil War soldier's ghost , but then again why take chances with a jealous ghost?
 
That is a creepy story! Your grgrgrandmother was probably haunting whomever has her skull and maybe wasn't around ( what happened to her is a creepy story all by itself ). Happy to say I do not know what musty, old bones smell like but have no problem believing their owner upset - or had a sense of humor. How much fun would it be, if you're a ghost, reminding the not-dead-yet you're around?
 
I should work on how I tell this story. I could juice it up a bit, but the more I juice it up the less truthful it would become.
That is a creepy story! Your grgrgrandmother was probably haunting whomever has her skull and maybe wasn't around ( what happened to her is a creepy story all by itself ). Happy to say I do not know what musty, old bones smell like but have no problem believing their owner upset - or had a sense of humor. How much fun would it be, if you're a ghost, reminding the not-dead-yet you're around?

The high school displayed the skull as a "ancient" Native American skull. The farmer cut down the trees where my g-g-grandmother was said to be buried and found the skull when he dug a well. The skull was never verified to be my g-g-grandmother's nor was it verified to be Native American.
 
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That is a creepy story! Your grgrgrandmother was probably haunting whomever has her skull and maybe wasn't around ( what happened to her is a creepy story all by itself ). Happy to say I do not know what musty, old bones smell like but have no problem believing their owner upset - or had a sense of humor. How much fun would it be, if you're a ghost, reminding the not-dead-yet you're around?
Well, it is not like they have a lot else on their plates!
marriage-relationships-ghost-ghostly-spirits-hauntings-supernatural-wda1812_low.jpg
 
Because I was allowed to get away with discussing my g-g-grandmother I figured I would try to get a ghost story of her husband included. Meet my g-g-grandfather.
old billy.jpg


He was too old to serve in the Civil War and this is a post Civil War image of him. I have the exact same name as him as well as the same name of several ancestors. This is his ghost story.

As a young man he moved to the wilderness of Ingham County Michigan. There were no roads and very few people of European descent in Ingham County. This was not a real show stopper for William Carr and he purchased a 25 square mile track in the wilderness. He followed an old Native American path and cut down trees so his wagon could reach his new home. His daughter that caused the death of his wife was said to be the first white child born in the county.

The Ingham County wilderness was no place for weak men. William had to build fire pits around his family and horses so the wolves and bears would not eat either. Soon they moved into a rude log cabin. Still the wolves and bears greatly desired to make a meal of his horses. The lose of a horse would keep William from bringing in a crop and his family might face starvation. The loss of a horse and a 100 mile trek to buy a new horse was nothing William wanted to endure.

One particularly bold black bear would not listen to reason. Night after night the pesky bear showed up to test William. Early one evening the bear showed up yet again and William decided to end his problem once and for all. William grabbed his musket and tracked the bear to the tallest hill in the area where he found the hungry bear. Sadly William, who may not have lacked courage, was not Daniel Boone. His one shot only wounded the bear and the bear charged poor William. He pulled his sheath knife and the fight to the death was on.

Both man and bear got in their licks but in the end William killed the bear with his knife. After some time his sons wondered where their father was. Lighting lanterns they found their injured father near death. They returned to the cabin to get the rude door to use to carry thier dying father home. Things looked grim.

After a day or so poor William was able to take a few mouthfuls of weak bear soup. This seemed to give the poor man some strength. Weak bear soup was followed by bear soup, bear stew, and finally bear steak. After two weeks William was able to get to a chair. So the bear that almost killed William saved his life in the end. William was cared for live form being mauled by the bear. But there is more to the story.

The tall hill where the man/bear battle took place is said to be haunted. Every night at midnight the man and bear refight their epic battle, even until today. If one goes to the haunted hill at midnight on a moonless night and if the wind is just right, one can hear the epic battle to the death.

Old Will carried his sheaf knife everyday for the rest of his life. He did not know when he just might have to kill a pesky bear. But is the ghost story true? I myself have set upon Bear Hill at midnight several times and all I ever heard was the pop of the pull tab of a few cans of beer. Perhaps it was just not the right conditions to hear the battle.
 
My g-g-grandfather married an Irish woman which cause him and his children for being ignored by other family members. Part of my issues with my family stories is that many of them have common elements with traditional Irish stories and I have serious doubts any of my family stories are true.

I decided that my daughters should stop being Irish-Americans and needed to simply be Americans. To aid this I avoided telling them all these silly family stories which may well be based on Irish tales. I think it better these family stories die out with my generation as it is well past time for us to be simply Americans and stop being Irish-American or Americans of Irish decent. At times I do wonder if I made a mistake.
 
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