Gerry Rafferty : Her Father Didn’t Like Me Anyway

The Immortal Jukebox

I believe in Ghosts.

No, not the ghouls and spectres of Halloween or graveyard apparitions.

The Ghosts I believe in lie dormant in the labyrinthine halls of the mind and the secret chambers of the heart.

And, these Ghosts, lingering traces of people and places no longer with us, can come to visit, unbidden, in afternoon reveries or in the quiet watches of the night.

A few bars of a tune from decades ago.

A once familiar fragrance floating by.

An overheard accent in an unexpected place.

And, suddenly, a Ghost appears and asks, ‘How is it with you these days?’

Do you still remember me?

Of course, sometimes, we summon up these Ghosts ourselves as we try to come to terms with the longing for and the loss of our past loves.

‘The coat she wore still lies upon the bed’.

With , ‘Her Father Didn’t Like Me…

View original post 885 more words




In my twenties, I had many different jobs.

For a long while, I was both a real estate agent and a bartender.

On Maryland’s Eastern Shore, a region with a long and legend-saturated history, a real estate agent is certain to eventually encounter a home with a reputation for being haunted. Not having been a Realtor for many years now, I don’t know the legalities of such a challenge in this more complicated world we live in, but back then, my sister, who was my mentor/co-agent, and I would say something like, “Look, ha-ha, we don’t necessarily believe in ghosts, but you know, ha-ha, we feel obligated to tell you, ha-ha, somepeoplehavesaidthishousemightbehaunted.”Ssssscan0001s (3)Once we said somepeoplehavesaidthishousemightbehaunted to a married couple looking to invest in a Grasonville rental property, a late 19th century two-story simple colonial, and the lady replied, “Oh, we know! We saw her the first time we…

View original post 976 more words