Answer - Tell - Pray

It's fitting Harry Houdini died on Halloween. In 1926, after a student tested Houdini's abs of steel with repeated blows, Houdini wound up in the hospital with what looked like a ruptured appendix. Many believe Houdini had appendicitis before the student punched him in the gut, but was too stubborn to seek medical attention. 

Before his death, Houdini asked to be buried in a bronze casket along with letters written from his mother. He also left a secret code with his beloved wife, Bess, and said if she ever held a seance that he would make his presence known with the code, which was later revealed to be:

 Rosabelle- answer- tell- pray, answer- look- tell- answer, answer- tell.

The name Rosabelle came from a song that Bess sang when she and Houdini first met. The other words related to secret messages used between a magician and assistant during an act. Apparently each word corresponds to a letter, which ultimately spells out the word "believe". 

Every Halloween, Bess would try to contact her famous husband, but to no avail. Finally, after ten years, she threw in the towel, announcing: "My last hope is gone. I do not believe that Houdini can come back to me, or to anyone...The Houdini Shrine has burned for ten years. I now, reverently... turn out the light. It is finished. Good night, Harry!"

Even so, every Halloween there have been seances to try and contact the escape artist. As part of their "31 Days of Halloween", Atlas Obscura has some nice photos of Houdini's gravesite here.  

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Heaven

I write book reviews and the book I'm reading now is called A Funny Thing Happened on the way to Heaven: (Or, How I Made Peace with the Paranormal and Stigmatized Zealots and Cynics in the Process). The title alone made me pick it out for review. When I got it in the mail I was surprised to learn it was written by lead singer of Slipknot, Corey Taylor. I was a little hesitant as I started the book, hoping it wasn't going to be a maudlin, over-the-top, in-your-face-motherfucker! account of this guy's run ins with ghosts. Well it is, but it's brilliantly funny and smart as well.

Taylor recounts in chilling detail the encounters he's had, beginning at a young age, with things that go bump in the night. I'm not done with the book yet, but so far I've read about a horrifying abandoned house in the woods that he and his friends broke into when he was a kid, a haunted mansion in the Hollywood Hills where Slipknot recorded one of their albums (and where he ran into a ghost butler while naked in the shower), and his own houses that have included odd things like a shadow man that followed around his then three-year-old son.

Because Taylor writes with such zest and wit, I'm too busy laughing to be scared. But after I put the book down, I start thinking about the stories he's shared. That shadow man, in particular, forced me to leave the hall light on last night.