Our Uninvited Guest

11:23:00 AM judyo53 0 Comments

While living a wonderful family life in a great little Chicago suburb of Blue Island, our idyllic little world was shattered by an unexpected visitor. My Dad, your Great Grandpa Bud, worked at the post office and left work very early in the morning. His shifts had changed over the years but this was pretty early.

At the time this happened, I shared a bedroom with your Uncle John while Dad worked on my new bedroom upstairs. My parents bedroom was right across the hall on the main floor of the house.

I was around 7 when this happened and John was around 3. It was still early and Mom, John and I were still in bed sleeping.

I heard my Mom yelling "Help! There's a man in the house!" I guess I didn't hear the "Help!" part and hear "there's a man in the house" and figured, "Oh, Grampa (Dan Ganzer) must be over. I got up and walked across the hall to my parent's bedroom and Mom screamed, "Get back in your room and lock the door!" I don't remember doing that but I must have.

Next I remember is walking with her down the hall to the front door and the screen door was closed but the front door was standing open. The police were called and they came over and investigated the entire house.

Here is the story as I got it (or remember getting it). The days used are examples. Dad remembered that he didn't lock the basement door Wednesday night. This man did not come upstairs until Friday morning! We had a big basement with a 2nd kitchen, workshop, family room and full bathroom. A person could easily live down there for a while as long as they were quiet. I might be wrong about those days, it could have been that the door was left unlocked Wednesday night and the guy came up Thursday, but I remember it the first way. Either way, it's scary!

Mom (Great-Grandma Bea or Bernice) told us she was laying in bed and heard something in the hallway. She briefly opened her eyes to see a man's shoes and legs standing in the door. She started moving around in the bed as if she were waking up in the hopes he would be scared away. Then she jumped out of the bed and tried to open an old door off her bedroom that used to go outside but probably hadn't been used in years and was stuck shut. She managed to open a window and that's when I heard the "Help!" scream. Supposedly, a neighbor heard her and said he was calling the police. Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't the neighbor as he seemed to be the only guy around at the time. She never saw his face and no one saw anyone running away, so the culprit was never caught.

And I was never the same. When we would go out of the house upon our return my Dad would have to hold my hand and we'd have to do the police investigation of the entire house, looking in closets, under beds, in attic cubbyholes.

That didn't last forever as time went on, but I had nightmares for at least 30 years after. Very vivid, realistic nightmares of someone breaking into the house, sometimes through a window, some that attacked me with guns or knives. Therapy wasn't popular back then and I never even told my parents about the dreams.

Unfortunately, my Dad built me the most beautiful bedroom upstairs that was big with a private bathroom and a walk-in closet. I believe it was painted lilac and white and I had two twin beds for sleepover guests. My bedroom and our family room were both upstairs. I would go to bed at night but I guess I was always a light sleeper (maybe because of the break-in). I guess I could tell when my parents went back downstairs to bed and then I would end up going downstairs and sleeping on the couch. My Mom finally put a sheet on the couch for me.

They told me even if someone broke into our house again that they wouldn't want to go upstairs because they'd be trapped. They reminded me that the guy that broke into our house walked past the couch on the way out the front door. But I couldn't stay asleep in my beautiful new bedroom. I can't remember how long that lasted.