My grandfather chewed tobacco, and would empty his spittoon into the toilet, at night. He would usually stand in my doorway, checking on me, during this bathroom visit.

He died of old age, in his bedroom, next to mine. For a LONG TIME after his death, I would awaken during the night, and see him standing in the doorway, holding his spittoon, looking at me.

It did not comfort me, it scared the shit out of me, and I began sleeping with my head under the covers, out of fear. I still prefer sleeping this way, 55 years later.

After my grandfather died, the sheriff of the county, adjacent to where we lived, came to visit my parents. He said that teenagers were partying at my grandfather's old abandoned home, and were writing on the walls, and generally destroying it. The sheriff said that some teenagers had reported, on multiple occasions, that an old man would appear, and chase them until they left the property.

The sheriff told my mom that when he went to investigate, an old man did come out of the surrounding woods, and chase him, also. He said he left in a hurry, because he recognized the man as Uncle Jim, my mother's father.