Play it Again Harry
Hans Eugen, New York, USA
It was a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon when I sat in the back yard of my wife's sister, talking with their cousin. The woman is a psychic and in the course of our conversation she asked me if my father's name began with an H. I told her no, and she told me she saw someone whose name began with H, on my father's side of the family. I thought for a while and was unable to make the connection. Then she said she saw railroad tracks and musical instruments, and if that meant anything to me. Then it dawned on me, in 1865 my great-uncle, Harry, started the first brass band in my hometown in Pennsylvania. He started the band just after the Civil War. I remembered reading about him years before in a local history book.
I was told that Harry liked to be around me because I am a musical performer, he enjoyed my music.
As time went on I had forgotten about that Sunday afternoon. Then one night, about five years later, I had a visitor. It was around 10:00 PM, I was softly playing my electronic keyboard, not too loudly as I didn't want to disturb my neighbours. I was playing a waltz, really getting into it, swaying to the music in three-quarter time, and another hand appeared beside my right hand on the piano keys. It was a white, shimmering, translucent hand. I did a double take and with my arms covered in goose bumps I jokingly said, "I'll play this one alone, Harry". The hand disappeared immediately. I really didn't mean to insult him, I was only joking. I haven't seen him since that night. Harry is still around though, I still get those goose bumps now and then when I'm playing late at night.