Pineridge Patty

There was an odd thing that happened this morning. Louise and I were both headed out on errands, she to the doctor and I was headed to pick up some groceries and get a couple of keys cut. Of course, when I got in the car I had forgotten the list in the house. I always use a list for shopping, partly because I wouldn’t be able to remember anything that we needed once at the store, and also it is a good way to avoid blame when you didn’t pick up supper.

“Where are the steaks?” she asks just before dinner.

“Uhhhh…I don’t think they were on the list were they?” No one is at fault, well except for the list itself. Sure we have to eat peanut butter and crackers for dinner, but I didn’t screw up.

When I came back out to the garage, I saw a young girl with long blond hair, carrying a back pack. She would be about 16 or 17 years old and she looked in the garage as she passed by. I am pretty security conscious when it comes to the garage being open and strangers walking down the alley, so I generally will take an interest. I take note of the plate numbers of unrecognized vehicles driving up the alley and of course anyone walking down the alley with a back pack. I have been even more aware since someone walked into the yard and garage one night a year or two ago.

I backed the car out and made sure that the garage door was closed. I drove to the end of the alley (one house) and looked for the girl. She had disappeared! There is no way that she could have even made it into the nearest house in the time she had, let alone get down the street and onto a cross street. I drove first in one direction, and then back in the other, without seeing her. She was just gone. This was a little freaky.

 

While I drove off, I started to think about ghostly apparitions and how I had never seen one in my life. Truthfully, I haven’t really given ghosts much thought other than why Casper has legs and feet sometimes, and at other times he seems to have a tail. I have heard of ghosts that will move a letter or cause the lights to flicker and other small time nonsense like that. What the hell is the point of that? Can you imagine spending an eternity doing something like that? I moved letters for about thirty years and that was more than enough time, thank you very much.

 

So, what is this girl’s story? I can’t just call her “girl”, how about I call her “Pineridge Patty”? She was a little butch looking, kind of like Peppermint Patty all grown up. When I came home I did a little research on the area, just to see if there have been other unearthly sightings in the neighbourhood. There haven’t been many, but if our ghosts are just walking down the alley, or up the street, who would take notice? Not me and I bet not you. I suspect that there are a lot more poltergeists wandering around kind of aimlessly up and down the streets like…well…mailmen.

I looked up some back issues of the “Pineridge Pines”, and about twenty nine years ago a 16 year old girl named Elizabeth Wentworth went missing on the way to school. She was seen entering the tot lot that backs onto the alley and not again after that. She never arrived at school. There was an intensive search that went on for days, but all to no avail. This was pretty big news back then, because Calgary was more a small town than city. There were posters put up and alerts sent to other cities, but unfortunately Elizabeth was never seen again. Her parents moved from the area and the case was pretty much forgotten.

The guy that owned our house before we bought it 28 years ago was a welder that had a rather violent temper. His wife had to seek shelter at a neighbours several times and the police were often at the house for one reason or another. The article in the “Pines” didn’t mention whether this guy was questioned, but I would have been surprised if he wasn’t.

In the past few years, a pretty big crack has developed that goes right across one corner of the garage and the one corner is sinking. I am told it is because the gravel wasn’t packed down well enough before the concrete was poured or there is a hollow under that section of floor for some reason. I have decided that it just isn’t worth breaking the concrete and trying to repair the problem.

Oh, Elizabeth Wentworth’s nickname was “Patty”. I guess I may have to get used to having Pineridge Patty walking behind the house from time to time…