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My father passed away in September, 1978 and a couple of months later I moved in with my mother to be company and also help her out as she had severe arthritis.

Several years had gone by since my father's death and one night my mother blasted me for playing the television set in the living room too loud. I had been sound asleep in my own bedroom where I also had my own TV which I had brought from my apartment when I moved back home, but it was turned off.

Night after night of this happened and we finally had to do some investigating because this should not be happening. The TV would turn itself on at exactly 11:58 p.m., would play for exactly 2 minutes on Channel 2 (at that time the local PBS type channel) and then turn itself off. Note that the TV had not been set to that channel when it was turned off earlier in the evening.

We prepared ourselves, ensured that the remote was not in danger of being accidentally stepped upon by a cat, went out on the veranda to see if anyone was coming home and opening their garage at that time. Once again on came the TV at precisely 11:58 p.m., played for the alloted 2 minutes and then turned itself off.

This went on for about 10 days straight and was the weirdest thing. Anyway, I had this funny thought that maybe Dad was trying to communicate with us. You see, the converter type we were using at the time was a Jerrold Converter and my father's name was Gerard. I thought maybe he was asking us to have 2 Masses said for him in order to make it into heaven. I know, weird to say the least.

I phoned our local Catholic church and ordered two masses in my father's name but the incidents continued with the TV every night. But I guess my Dad didn't trust me, because the night following my visit to the church to pay for the masses, the TV problem never happened again. That was at least 17 years ago and I still have no explanation to what happened.

But I still think it is really funny that the TV didn't stop playing each night until I actually paid for the masses.

A few other strange things have happened in my life, but I must say, that one takes the cake.

About 2 years after my mom passed away, I had been trying to find my favourite shoes. I looked under beds, sofas, and I even checked the shoe rack, but to no avail and I looked for them for days. I know the shoes had to be around somewhere but where that somewhere might be was a total mystery to me. And then, surprise surprise, I came home from work one day and there were my pair of shoes, neatly placed, side by side, across the threshold of my bedroom door. Now, was that Saint Anthony or my mom?

Now if they would only help me win the lottery.

Learn more about this author, Shirley Bohemier.
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