Feels Like The First Time

eric ackerman

Feels Like The First Time

Prologue: Eric was my husband’s best friend. He was killed in a plane crash just shy of his 21st birthday. Today would have been his big 50th birthday. He was the first spirit I ever channeled. Fair disclosure, I was headfirst into the better part of a bottle of wine. Not my usual. We were making some tough decisions about whether or not to close our business. It was incredibly successful and it was killing us. We would spend evenings in an upstairs craft room. My husband building airplanes, and I’d be making jewelry. We’d put the radio on and back to back zone out.

So, I’m sitting at my craft bench.  A first anniversary gift from my husband.  I’ve come to recognize unfamiliar songs as a way for spirits to creep in to my consciousness. But this was the first.

“Do you know the way to San Jose?…mumble mumble hum”. I was focused on what I was doing. Again, “I’ve been away so long…hum…”.

It sounds like someone next to you humming in your ear. It wouldn’t go away. I don’t know how long it went on. The spirit started banging on the counter I was working on. “Write it down!” Finally, I set my things down and grabbed a piece of paper. I wrote “Do you know the way to San Jose?” I went back to my work.  Again, “Give it to him.”  Now in the stressed out state we had been in, wine buzzed or not, I figured I had finally cracked.  I’m not a big drinker and I figured I had just crossed the line into blotto.

I ignored him and project in hand kept working.  Again, “GIVE IT TO HIM”.  This time more insistent.  I say “fine”.  Set what I’m doing down and hand the paper to Greg.  Now Greg is used to his crazy wife.  And has probably been more supportive and had more confidence in me than I had in myself.  I’m not sure I would have used ‘gift’ as the right term at the time.  But, something was definitely awakened in my psyche over the past few years.  I figured it was age and stress madness to be sure.

Greg looks a the paper and lies it down.  Returning to whatever aircraft was on his desk.  I say “Look at it”, “what does it mean to you?”  My husband is a practiced musician.  Self-taught and very talented.  Never, ever play ‘Name That Tune’ with him.  You know that old TV Game show where players guessed the name of a song based on just a few notes from the song?  He will beat you every single time. He says to me, “It’s an old song.”  “I know that”, I say sighing, but “What does it mean to you?”  “This dead guy keeps singing it to me.”  Greg becomes very still and turns a little white.  “What did you say?” he asks.  “I said this dead guy keeps singing it to me.”  I continued to relay information that the spirit we now know to be Eric, began rolling out as soon as he was recognized.

I described what Eric was wearing in detail.  I reminded Greg of where they were sitting, what they were  doing and where Eric was going the next day.  All was revealed and re-told to Greg over the next hour.  It’s not uncommon for me to forget what was said almost instantly after it is conveyed.  It’s experienced as it’s told as though it were my very own memory of the event.  But it’s not mine.  It’s borrowed.  I met Eric for the first time that night. I knew his laugh, his voice, his personality like he was in the room. What I described to my husband was the last night he was with his friend. They were singing the song together as a joke.  It was a very old song even then.  Greg knew he was flying to the Bay Area for work the next day.  When asked where, he told Greg he didn’t know.  Somewhere down by San Jose.

Now, I knew the basics of the story by then.  But never any details.  It was simply too painful to talk about.  And even Greg had forgotten the song.  Thanks for the confirmation Eric.  At least Greg knows I haven’t cracked yet.  Eric has since become a known and trusted guardian at our house.  He protects us on the road as well.  We take comfort in his presence as a known family member, although I don’t think he ever left Greg.  He just came home with him.

Happy Birthday Eric. Until we meet again.

Eric Ackerman

May 27, 1968 – May 9, 1989

~Forever young my friend.


Greg, Casey and Calla Saumure, investigate paranormal events in and around Northern California. We love to photograph, film, fly and write about our experiences in ghost travel.  We focus on the history and restoration efforts of haunted locations.  We always open and close with prayer, ask for spirit permission and we never provoke.  “We do this as a family, and we do it in light.”  You can reach Casey at (916)759-7880 or E-mail us with questions ruedelamort@gmail.com.

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