CHAPTER 12
No Silence
I don’t know how many paranormal people think like I do. Sometimes, it seems like we’re all in total agreement, and other times, I feel like a mindless geek who just cannon-balled into the deep end of a pool filled with wet cement. There’s no telling with this field, but that’s a good thing. Every differing opinion concerning the how and why of the paranormal is just one more indication that people are thinking for themselves, and that’s what we need.

When I first started listening many years ago, I entered through door number three – the one marked “basket cases.” I wanted to find someone I loved; someone deceased, obviously. I wanted to talk to my father, and I had some expectations. I anticipated that if there was a way for him to hear me, then plausibly there should be a way for him to communicate back. I tried to reach him through EVP. At the time, I had no idea that I would actually be able to capture the voices I heard, much less be able to record so much data over the years. But as I’ve said before, I don’t know if I’ve successfully accomplished those original objectives. I can’t say with any certainty that I have heard from my father even once in all these years. You know, convincing myself that I have would be easy, but truth or illusion, it wouldn’t be enough – I would have to know for sure. It may never work out that way.

Regardless, here I am, so many EVP later, and I am amazed at what I have learned about the afterlife. EVP have taught me a great deal, and the entire process has unquestionably altered my life and redesigned my understanding of practically everything.

Occasionally, someone volunteers the thought that I’m too into it. I guess they just can’t help themselves – they have to say it, as if such an idea could never have crossed my mind; as if no one has ever dared to say such a thing to me before. Hell, they say it all the time - I must obviously waste too much precious time thinking about the possibilities of being able to record voices of the deceased. They say I go too far with this constant analysis and interpretation of the data.

Every so often, someone even suggests that I shouldn’t spend so much time talking to the dead. They always emphasize the word ”dead” because that may not have crossed my mind either. Plus, it seems like a safe bet to suggest that playing with the dead is not a particularly good thing to do, although I can’t remember the last time a dead guy has caused me any harm. Seems a whole lot safer than driving in Baltimore City or a whole bunch of other things, for that matter. I am only a tad surprised by their concern though, because they’re actually right – messing with the dead is probably not a good thing to do. But that’s not how I see what I am doing. There’s not a macabre bone in my body, and I don’t focus on any of the gruesome trappings one sees in movies or reads in literature. I suppose it could be ghoulish, but there’s nothing grisly about either my interest or my work.

Perhaps a lot of paranormally uninformed people still view those of us with this interest as weird societal outcasts. There has always been a stereotype, I think, that people who are “into” ghosts and stuff dress in a certain way, stay up all night, have a fascination with crypts and practice some form of devil worship. I don’t know, I never thought of it like that. For me, it always seemed like people in the paranormal might have been barking up the wrong tree occasionally, but that their quest was at least interesting. Either way, I’m not fascinated with either death or any of the baggage that comes with it. I don’t even see the dead as being dead, so I guess that relieves me of wearing the chains of the most hackneyed stereotypes.