It was a 4th of July weekend and all the brothers, sisters, spouses and their children had gathered at my parents old home in the country. We were really spread out. Home from Canada, Virginia Beach, my brother's family back from Europe where he played hockey, yes, we all had made it. The kids had set up tents on the 7 acres, there was a camper and every bed and couch were spoken for. After the fireworks we had all the little ones settled and the adults gathered in the kitchen to enjoy each other's company. There were eight children in our family. My parents had met when they were on leave from the Canadian Army at a party in Buffalo, NY. They fell in love and after his discharge my dad moved to NY to be with my mum. It wasn't an easy life; my father spent years working two jobs. Then my parents found the house in the country. It had a ton of disadvantages; it had been empty for 20 years and had no plumbing, heat, electricity or water and animals had been living inside this place. However, it was all they could afford to house their growing family. Through years of love and labor the house held the lives of ten people, all their friends, neighbors, laughter, tears, and loss.
Now...........back to the large but cozy kitchen where the family had gathered. I'd made pizza and Dad had brought in some beer from the refrigerator in the garage. Dad brought a single can of Schmitts from the basement later and said, "No one drinks this." I knew and was touched that Dad had saved it. That beer had been the last one my brother Gary had put away for himself in 1975, the night before he was killed in a motorcycle accident. The conversation continued and Dad placed the beer in the center of the kitchen table. It immediately started moving. I sat there with my mouth open and Dad looked like he was going into shock. I said, "Dad their must be a logical explanation, there must be water on the table or something." I told everyone to take whatever they had off the kitchen table and dried it off with a towel. It suddenly hit my older brother who that can belonged to and he said, "I don't believe this!." We put the can back down on the dry table and watched for ten minutes as it started, stopped and moved all over that table. I picked up the can because I was really getting worried about Dad and said, "He only wanted to let us know he was here with the rest of his family - its a good sign." When I put the can back down, it did not move again. Dad took it back to the basement where Gary's other keepsakes are kept. We've had other visits from Gary but those will be told at another time.