It was relatively easy for me to focus on that time and place, as I had lived through much of it.
The door he walked in, the chair he sat in, his desk, his belongings, all remarkable for me to see.
We went through the downstairs, there were Park Rangers on hand to ask questions, and give us somewhat of a guided tour of the home. The same rugs that he had walked on, Churchill had slept in this room, all the "guests" and dignitaries who had visited here, so rich in history.
I then went up the wide staircase to the second floor. There was the elevator that he had used to make the trip that I just took on the stairs.
All of the furnishings were as they had been, it was a walk through history, to say the least.
On the second floor, near the elevator, was a room, with a telephone and some furniture. I walked in and looked around .... then .... something brushed my right arm, I looked around, and I was alone. But, something had definitely brushed across my arm, very lightly, but there were no breezes in the old room, nothing open, no where a breeze could come from.
"Oh yes, we have had some incidents and when we were doing some work on some weather damage, some of the workers experienced things, one even quit, he was positive he had encountered .... something. It seems to be Sara Roosevelt, FDR's Mother, this was her home."
I told her that something had brushed my arm and the room where it had happened and she was not surprised at all. She casually told me, "It might well have been."
I saved a seat for her in the car, and a place at the table at the restaurant where we ate that night.
