MICHAEL

Into the Light . . . No Sugar or Coffee and its specific relevance to ghost busting John Zaffis seldom sees dead people, but he can often tell you what they had looked like. He can "sense" if there is a ghostly presence nearby. Sometimes, in photos he has taken, an image will appear of someone who was definitely not in the room when he took the picture - I say "definitely" because it's usually someone who has been dead for quite a while. John is a paranormal investigator, a person who investigates paranormal activity. His job is to find the source of a supernatural disturbance, then recommend a remedy, whether it be a simple house blessing or a full scale exorcism. He equates it to being a psychologist for dead people.

John was a perfectly ordinary looking child and easy to play with. None of us had any clue that he would grow up to be a "ghost buster." We were second cousins and spent many hours together in my grandmother's garage, transforming piles of homemade wooden blocks into the Eiffel Tower or the OK Corral. John was a few years older, so he always colored within the lines. Talking was not his strong suit, but his laugh was genuine and infectious. We didn't see him often as teenagers. Apparently, we missed what was an important personal transition for him; we didn't learn until many years later that he had seen his first ghost at the age of 15.

It was late one night when he suddenly saw his dead grandfather standing at the foot of his bed, slowly shaking his head back and forth. Unnerved, John ran downstairs and described the scene to his mother, who said, "Yes, that's exactly the way your grandfather always used to shake his head." A few days later, John's grandmother died. To this day he thinks the mysterious visit may have been his grandfather's way of letting him know what was about to happen . . . or maybe not. The field of investigating psychic phenomenon is far from exact, and for obvious reasons, little is known about what dead people might be thinking when they make an appearance. One of John's more frequently used expressions during an investigation is, "Could be . . . could be," accompanied by a thoughtful stroking of his graying beard. John starts an investigation of a haunting with a large cup of coffee, extra light, no sugar. He drinks a lot of coffee. I later wonder if it has more to do with keeping warm than with keeping caffeinated; it turns out that ghost busting can be a chilly line of work.

There is a house in Bethany which is believed to be haunted. It is a tiny house with only three rooms. It flanks the right side of the driveway at the entrance to a horse farm. Bethany is a community of horse farms and old houses, many of which are rumored to be haunted by old ghosts. The home John is investigating is a relatively new one, built in the 1940s. The ghost in question is also relatively new. It is suspected to be the spirit of a man named Michael who shot himself in the head in the tiny bedroom about seven years ago.

Julie and Tom, the couple who currently live in the house, didn't know Michael, but they know a lot of people who did. Julie knew the history of the house and hesitated to move in, but the barn manager, Kathy, who had been a good friend of Michael's, insisted that there would be no problem; Michael would enjoy their company. She said he'd probably give them a little run for their money in the beginning just to check them out, but in the end they'd get along just fine. Julie thinks they'd get along better if Michael would stop flipping the switch that turns the heat off. In the past 24 hours, the heat has been turned off three times, once when no one was home. "He was supposed to have been a practical joker," Julie says. It's been about 20 degrees outside for the past few days, and she's not appreciating Michael's sense of humor.

The furnace switch is now duct taped in place. Michael's list of practical jokes includes the usual inventory of haunting activities such as turning lights off and on, opening and closing doors, and tickling Julie's feet in the middle of the night. He also changes the channel on the TV and steals beer and cigarettes, which he then hides in the basement, which can only be reached through an outside Bilco door. "One of the last tenants used to leave a six pack of Labatt's beer out for him," said Julie, "and say, 'Michael, this is yours, leave ours alone.' And he did."

John had arrived at my house earlier in the day. He had finished his large Dunkin' Donuts light-no-sugar, and I started a fresh pot so he could take some "to go." We spent a few minutes catching up before we set off for the suspected haunted house. John has been married to his wife, Cheryl, for 16 years now, and they have one son, Christopher, who is 12. He also has two grown daughters Erin and Aimee. At 44, he's lost quite a bit of hair, which he's quick to blame on the Greek side of the family, and the hair that's left on his head is slightly less gray than his closely-trimmed beard. He's not quite tall, not quite thin, and his glasses perch upon a nose which was also bequeathed to him from his Greek father.

As much as he's inherited from his father's side of the family, he has his mother's family to thank for his unusual vocation. His mother's twin brother is Ed Warren, of the famous Ed and Lorraine Warren husband and wife ghost hunting team. >From a very young age, John spent a lot of time visiting his aunt and uncle, occasionally playing in the back of the "haunted museum" which occupies a building in the Warren's back yard. It contains all of the artifacts the Warrens have collected over their years of working with the paranormal, and it is blessed regularly by a priest; the Warren's suspect some of the items in it still aren't completely ghost-free.

In his late teens, John began accompanying the Warrens on investigations ranging from run-of-the-mill rattling and banging to poltergeist activity to demonic possessions. He has witnessed many exorcisms, yet I am pleased to report that I have never seen his head spin around 360 degrees, nor do his eyes glow with an unearthly light; they are just plain green, and only light up with an occasional twinkle. Recently, John and a fellow paranormal investigator, have established, The Paranormal and Demonology Research Society of New England (PRSNE.) They will conduct free-of-charge investigations for people who are having paranormal experiences.

Unlike the characters in the movie "Ghostbusters," who make a fortune with their ghost removal business, most psychic investigators help haunting victims for free; they make their living by working a 9 to 5 Job and giving lectures. John is a man of several personalities. When he's not in work mode, he's as laid back as they come, capable of sitting around for hours on end, shooting the breeze. The moment he's confronted with a supernatural phenomenon, he begins to buzz with an intense energy; you can almost see his ears perk up and his nose twitch.

I had accompanied him to Dudley town, what he likes to call, "Connecticut's most haunted ghost town," earlier in the year, and watching him roam through the old foundations and ruins was like watching a bloodhound pick up the scent of a convict on-the-run. "Right here," he'd say. "Stand right here. Can you feel that energy? Wow!" And he'd take a photograph of the area before trotting over to another section, head tilted slightly back, occasionally pausing to stroke that graying beard. He loves his work. On this particular Sunday, we arrive at the Bethany house and Julie shows us into her tiny living room. We are surrounded by her pets, five cats and two dogs, who settle into the small vacant spaces around us on the sofa and floor.

There are five of us crammed into the room. Along with John, Julie and myself, there is a reporter from a local paper who has gotten wind of the story, and a friend of Julie's, Tammy, who has witnessed some of the incidents. Julie's husband, Tom, is away on a hunting trip. John begins with a few simple questions. He finds out that Julie has been living there for about a year, and that although the house was built in the 1940s, the bedroom was originally a much older smokehouse, and the other two rooms were additions to it. He then asks Julie what she knows about Michael. "He killed himself in the bedroom," she says. "My room. He was in his mid-thirties, a manic depressive, and had recently started seeing a counselor, and I guess he had gone to an appointment that day, but the counselor never showed up and he came home and committed suicide. I think it was about six or seven years ago."

"I wouldn't have moved in if I hadn't brought my animals here first," she adds. "They didn't seem to think anything was wrong, so I figured it was OK." "What kind of experiences have you had with him?" John asks. "Well, he likes to wake people up in the middle of the night," Julie answers. "I sleep with my feet outside of the covers because they get too hot during the night, and I'll feel something like a finger running down the middle of my foot. I'll sit up, and my dog will be sitting up, staring at nothing." She then describes the disappearance of beer and cigarettes, and the changing of the TV channels. "I'll say, 'Michael, I'll turn the TV on in the bedroom for you,' and when I do, the channel changing stops." "A few weeks ago, I was in the living room watching TV," said Tammy, "and I heard a huge crash over where the computer is.

I went into the kitchen and absolutely nothing was moved or broken." "When he first died, I guess he was very active," Julie added. "He would pinch people's butts, and you couldn't set a beer down without it being moved. It's been relatively quiet until recently." John says that this is common. Once contact has been made with a paranormal investigator and an investigation is imminent, a ghost will sense the change and activity will pick up or change. "He's never turned off the heat before this week," said Julie. I don't say anything, but the room is considerably colder than it was when we first sat down. John sits quietly stroking his beard for a few moments. "Was Michael a little guy?" "I don't know," Julie answers

"I keep picking up that he was a really small guy, very slight, brown hair, dark brown eyes, and that he was very emotionally isolated," John says. "Really? I thought he was, like, an outdoors kind of guy, I don't know, more burly," Julie says. "I always heard he was really outgoing, and funny." "I'm not talking about on the outside, I mean he was inwardly isolated," John says. "There are several other people tied to him around the property . . . people he was really close to . . ." He pauses for some more beard stroking. John talks about this dead person whom he has never met as casually as if he were discussing the price of gasoline at the pump. He is so nonchalant that the rest of us are made to feel completely comfortable with discussing a man who shot himself in the head in the very next room.

"Has anyone ever actually seen his ghost?" John asks. "I haven't," Julie replies. "But one of the past tenants said he saw him in the back yard, near where he used to have a garden and keep his pigs. Cheryl's daughter said she saw him in the barn once." "Who was Cheryl's daughter to him?" John asks, one eyebrow raised. There is a moment of uncomfortable silence before Julie answers. "Cheryl doesn't say much about it, and her daughter lives down in Florida now, but I guess Lisa had started a relationship with Michael. She was only, like, sixteen or seventeen, and when Cheryl found out, she was really upset. Of course, she didn't think it was appropriate." "There's something with Cheryl's daughter . . ." John says. "Do you think that's what's keeping him here?" asks Julie. "Could be . . . could be . . ." he answers.

And the room gets colder still. I try to suggest we should move to the bedroom where Michael committed suicide, hoping to get to a warmer spot, but John is not quite ready. "Does everyone talk to him the way you do?" he asks. "Well, yeah," Julie says. "Everyone always has. When I moved in, I was told that if you just say, 'Michael, cut it out,' or something like that, he will." "Sometimes," John says, "When you keep talking to spirits, do things like leave them beer and include them in everyday activities, you give them recognition that can bind them to a place. Like, I can't tell you how many times we get called to a house where an older woman has lost her husband, and there's all kinds of paranormal activity taking place, and what we find is that it's the woman keeping her dead husband there. The women say they just can't go on without him. So, the husband will stay . . . he's bound to Earth."

"Do you think that's it with Michael?" asks Julie. "Could be . . . could be . . . but I still get the feeling that there's more holding him here than that," John says. "I think there is someone who he needs to resolve an issue with." Terri, the reporter from the local paper, who has been sitting quietly all this time, finally speaks. "Is anyone else freezing in this room? Maybe the switch is turned off again." Julie leaps up to check. "No, it's fine," she says as she returns from the kitchen. "Wow, this is the only cold room." We all file into the kitchen, where it's at least 20 degrees warmer. John says that sometimes when a spirit is trying to make it's presence known, it will draw all of the energy from the room around it, making the temperature much colder. The rest of us give each other uncomfortable looks, while John goes into the bedroom to check out the energy situation in there.

He tilts his head back, and rocks on his heels for a moment, then takes a few snapshots of the wall on the opposite side of the room. Krista pokes her head in. "Cheryl just got back to the barn, if you want to ask her any questions. She knows more about Michael than I do." We bundle up and walk up the driveway to where Cheryl is unloading horses from a trailer. We wait until she has the last one off, then John introduces himself and asks her what she can tell him about Michael. "He was just a little guy," she says. "Probably 130 pounds soaking wet. He had a problem with the truth . . . he lied himself into a corner, couldn't find a way out, and killed himself." She laughs. "He would tell the most ridiculous stories!

For instance, he told us his mother had died and he had to go to her funeral, and he'd come over and we'd straighten his tie and say how sorry we were, then we all meet his mother at his funeral! He told us he was only 25, and he was actually 36. He would lie his way into jobs that he couldn't possibly handle, jobs that required physical strength, but he was too small to handle the work and would always get fired." "He had a back problem, lower back pain?" John asks. Cheryl is taken aback by his question. "How did you know that?" she asks. "I don't, I was just wondering," John answers. "He had broken his back, and wasn't supposed to be able to walk again," she replies. "He was in a lot of pain all of the time. He had bleeding ulcers, but couldn't bring himself to stop drinking beer or smoking or getting stoned.

He took Percasets for the pain, but they made his bleeding ulcers even worse. He was also depressed a lot of the time. We had talked him into getting counseling, but apparently, the guy he was seeing wasn't helping. Michael wasn't the kind of person who could ask for help. Ever. He kept everything to himself." "My daughter adored him," she continues. "They had started up a relationship, and I was furious. I considered him my friend, and I didn't think it was appropriate that they see each other." "Where's your daughter?" asks John. "Does she visit here much?" "She's in Florida," Cheryl answers. "She moved away a few months after Michael killed himself.

It hit her pretty hard. Lisa was the one who found him when he killed himself. She's got a seven year old daughter, so she doesn't come up here often. " There is a moment of silence as all of us do the math in our heads, but no one dares to ask Cheryl who the father of her grandchild is. John finally speaks. "What I'm picking up from all of this is that there are unresolved issues that Michael needs to deal with before he can cross to the other side. I get the feeling that there are people who need to come back to this farm and address these issues." John explains how most people who commit suicide don't cross to the other side right away. Their reasons for having killed themselves remain, keeping their spirit bound to Earth.

The rest of us shift restlessly. John doesn't come out and say it, but we all realize that he's trying to tell Cheryl the ghost needs to see Lisa and her daughter, who we all now believe is Michael's daughter. "We had a healing ceremony performed on the house," Cheryl says, beginning to appear agitated. "I don't know that it helped, though." That won't provide resolution," John says, and Cheryl looks more and more flustered. "I still feel that there's someone he needs to see again." Cheryl excuses herself to feed the horses, and she heads into the barn. The rest of us walk Julie and Tammy back to the house.

"Well, that's my recommendation," John tells Julie. "There are those few people tied to this place that he needs to have contact with. Then, I think he may be able to cross over." He tactfully declines to mention what we all are thinking. Julie is not particularly impressed. She knows she has no control over Cheryl's daughter or grandchild. Duct tape over the heat switch will have to do for now. We drive back to my house so John can fill his travel mug with some Starbucks Christmas Blend. "That's it?" I ask. "You don't, like, exorcize the house or anything?" "Well, kiddo, I think this one's pretty simple," he answers, sensing my disappointment. "It's not an evil spirit; it's just pesky. If they can live with that, fine. I personally think it's better to help a spirit cross over whenever we can, but I get the feeling with this case that Cheryl's daughter still isn't ready to face what happened."

I topped off John's travel mug and he headed home in his 1989 Chevy Cavalier station wagon. John may never learn whether or not Julie and Cheryl took his advice, or whether Michael has crossed to the other side or not. In the same way that the Warrens aren't quite sure that they've gotten the demons out of the artifacts in their backyard museum, there is no scientific test to determine if a troubled spirit has found peace. The relatively new house to the right of the driveway with the relatively new ghost may become yet another of the old Bethany houses inhabited by an old ghost. If you ask John Zaffis about it, he will probably answer, "Could be . . . could be . . ."

NOTE: At this time we do not know if it is Michael or not we have reports of new accounts from individuals seeing two new ghosts on the farm. We are currently planning on re-investigating the site.