Grandpa Queen And His Ghost Stories

Like many of us, I did not really have the opportunity to get to know most of my great grandparents. Both of my great grandmothers had passed before I was born, and my paternal great grandfather passed away when I was only a baby. In fact I have been told that the last thing he did prior to his death was to spend time playing with me. While I was too young to remember, I have always considered myself blessed to know that, and have always wondered if he was watching over me.

On my mother’s side of the family, I at least have some memories of my great grandfather, and his ghost stories. Grandpa Queen was a small man, and to the best of my recollections always seemed a little frail. However, any time we would see his old Chevrolet coming up that old dirt road that led to my grandparents’ house there was little doubt we would be treated with one of his famous stories.

As you stepped up onto the big porch of my grandparents’ old frame style farmhouse, there were two front doors, one entered the living room, and the other went to a bedroom. No matter how hard I try, I can never remember entering the door to the bedroom, because it seems that there was always a bed up against that door. Upon entering the door to the living room, on the right in the corner stood a 1950’s style black and white television, and between the television and the old wood stove, sat a big old chair under a window.

Whenever Grandpa Queen would arrive, he would always take off his hat, and sit down in that old chair. He would then proceed to call all of the children around him and for what seemed like hours and would tell his stories. Some of them were about life in days long since forgotten by most, but many of them were his own ghost stories that he could tell and make you believe every word he was saying. Unfortunately, I was too young to remember many details of those stories, but I can remember just how captivating they were to a young child, and how believable he could weave those fables of soldiers who still roamed the earth, or evil lurking in the woods. With his simple country phrasing and tone of voice, he could make you believe every word he said.

Never were those old hardwood planks uncomfortable, or the heat of southern summers unbearable when Grandpa Queen weaved his tales to the children gathered on the arms of that big chair or sitting cross-legged on the floor. Even after Grandpa Queen had passed away, I can remember looking at that big old chair and hearing his soft voice captivate all of us children with his tales.

Many today would consider it cruel to scare children, but I do not remember ever being afraid as a child other than the occasional nightmare that we all have had, but it seemed that most of those were the result of things seen on television. What I remember is family who took time to interact with children, grandchildren, and yes even great grandchildren. Perhaps time spent even telling ghost stories would be better than what most of us are doing now. As for me, I would not mind another ghost story or two from Grandpa Queen.