Connections to the Past – Part I,
La Crescenta

I am fascinated by history, not only my own but also the collective history of the Foothill communities. I have always been curious about those who have come before us. For me, Briggs, Pickens and McGroarty are more than just street names and Rockhaven is more than an abandoned property behind the gates. Not surprisingly, I am also a fan of Mike Lawler, our neighborhood storyteller.

I learned a great deal of local history when I was in my 30s and discovered garage sale-ing. I was a young stay-at-home mom who was excited to find great things for just a few dollars. I was particularly drawn to old cast iron metal, like vintage stoves, that I placed in my garden but I also adored anything from the 1950s and earlier. My sons and I sorted through old junk and I found myself captivated by the previous owners and the stories they held. I would listen with great interest to a daughter describe how her mother set the table with a particular tablecloth and what it meant to her. I would hold the object in my hands, feeling the rich history. These families that I met were the fabric of our community, many with last names I recognized. I always left the sales feeling I had gained much more than just stuff and promised to be a good caretaker of the cherished items.

Before too long, my so-called hobby became a way of life as I dragged a lot of dusty old items home and filled my house with them. I developed a love of antiques and decided to sell my treasures through an antique store under the name Checkered Past Vintage Shop.

Right around this same time, our family started seeing and hearing unusual things around the house – doors that seemed to close by themselves and unexplained shadows. I can’t say for certain that we had hitch-hiking ghosts but it did seem that something strange was going on.

One day, my boys and I were sitting in the dining room and the littlest one, Ben, grew wide-eyed and said, “Who is that man in our house?”

He went on to describe a man wearing a blue shirt and jeans who had brown hair like Daddy’s, walking from the living room to the windows then disappear. I turned to his brother Zach who nodded that he had seen it, too.

We had another incident. Just before waking one morning, I heard a soft voice in my ear that called, “Su-san.” It grew more insistent, “SU-SAN, SU-SAN.” I reluctantly got up and discovered that the frosted pastry that one of the kids had put in the toaster had burned and actually caught the kitchen cupboard on fire. There were flames and smoke. I had been warned.

We have a recurring experience that we have nicknamed the “ghost cat.” It is a shadow that moves as a cat would, low to the ground, usually just on the edge of our line of sight. We have seen it about 50 times.

When our daughter Delaney was young, she saw something too. We had purchased an old cedar chest with copper trim at the Antique Store on Foothill. The plan was to place our heavy television on it. But first, knowing we wouldn’t be opening it for a while, we gathered up our memorabilia and placed it inside. Just then, Delaney said, “Who is that lady stepping out?” My husband Jeff and I looked at each other while she described an older woman wearing a dress who looked like Grandma, coming out of the chest right before we closed the lid. I guess “Grandma” didn’t want to share the space with our old papers.

Don’t believe in ghosts? Don’t worry, they believe in you.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Susan Bolan
susanbolan710@gmail.com