How I Hilariously Found Unexpected Ghosts at Gettysburg

I’m a naturally skeptical person. Maybe even outrageously so. Ghosts, absolutely not. Psychics, 100% fake. Bigfeet (bigfoots??), I don’t think so. But I do love all the stories about them. So naturally, when planning our epic honeymoon, Kevin and I had to find somewhere that blended our combined interests. Many couples will go gallivanting off to the beach or some tropical island, but that wasn’t really our style. We both hate the heat, sand is just dirt with a good PR team, and I don’t like to swim. We figured we should do something a little more in line with our interests.

My husband works in Special Education now but his undergrad is in history education. I know, I know. Not the most surprising hobby, but he is indeed a history buff. He is an avid reader as well, so he knows SO. MANY. HISTORY. THINGS. Our 14-year-old was just complaining about this. She was jamming to the music from SIX the Musical and did not want or need the 45-minute history lesson that accompanied it. In my car, we pretend to be Broadway stars without historical implications. And with our heads fully attached to our spines. It is much more chill. Although I have been known to launch into a tirade about Eastern Equine Encephalitis or some such random illness after I’ve listened to This Podcast Will Kill You, so you win some, you lose some.

So, back to the honeymoon. We figured we could take Kevin’s love of history and my love of all things spooky and turn them into a single trip! Because what is history if not a series of existential horrors that are soon to be ghost stories? We landed on Gettysburg because, one, it is pretty historically significant in the US, two it has some pretty cool ghost tours available, and three it has sweet old-timey restaurants to go to. It may also be the elderly vacation spot of the state, but what can you do? Apparently, our hobbies skewed a little older than our, at the time, 21- and 22-year-old selves.

We did all the typical tourist things, like seeing all the battlefields, including our own personal reenactment of Pickett’s Charge. I still don’t completely know what that was, but I was young and in love and didn’t have a proper fear of tick-borne disease so I frolicked in the fields while Kevin told me boring things about numbers, gaining the high ground, and turning points. It was probably educational for the several people, all on Social Security, who listened to him more than me.

It was our visit to the Farnsworth Inn that was the spookiest. First, we had a lovely period-style dinner, and I had bread pudding for dessert. Now, yes, bread pudding is basically soggy, sugary, milk bread and sounds gross, but is, I promise you, delicious. This was all to get us in the right mindset for the Inn’s haunted tour. They took us through town, pointing out places where people had died, which is kind of everywhere, and where people had seen ghosts, also everywhere. No ghosts appeared. I was unsurprised. Some of our tour mates seemed determined to find something, but I suspected they would be disappointed. I was wrong.

Eventually, we ended up in the attic of the Inn where Confederate sharpshooters had made their lookout (and possibly where they shot the only civilian killed during the battle). It’s an old, cramped, semi-room without even enough room to stand straight in most places, and the room is peppered with bullet holes. The Inn itself was built in 1810 and had a section added in 1833. I guess what I’m saying here is that it is old and atmospheric. I was the last person to enter the room before the guide. She followed me in and pulled the door gently behind her. I stood next to it. This is all very important to the ghosts. I could hear the commotion in the dining room below from where I stood as the guide began her story in hushed tones. I heard someone bang shut the downstairs door and the one next to me swung open. On instinct, I turned and shut the door again. Frankly, it was loud with the door open. It wasn’t until I turned back into the room that I noticed that everyone was staring, wide-eyed at the door and me. Someone commented on the ghosts wanting us to leave.

Y’all, it was just old-ass infrastructure. Air currents throughout the house. Calm down. But boy did that door, and I, scare the crap out of everyone in the room. So they got their ghosts after all. I imagine that we tell this story in very different ways.

But seriously, check out the Farnsworth Inn and go on their haunted tour if you ever get the chance. It is so much fun and there is a lot of interesting history that is beyond the usual that you learn in school. And don’t forget to order the bread pudding.