The encounter I am about to relay happened when I was 5 years old. At the time I did not think much about it as I was so young, but as I have gotten older I have realized that I have no real explanation for what I saw as a child.
My mother, grandmother, my sisters and I all drove up to Arcadia National Park in Maine to visit an Aunt of mine that was staying in a cabin near the ocean. This cabin was in a pretty remote area of the park and was perched on a rocky cliff. I somewhat remember being warned to stay away from the edge. The cabin was secluded in the tall pines native to the area and was built for summer use only.
That evening my Mom and I shared a room. As many children do when outside of their regular environment, I woke up very early in the morning. I could hear crows making a lot of racket outside. The walls were so thin that I could literally see outside through a knot hole in the flimsy walls. The house was quiet as everyone else was still asleep. I continued to watch the noisy crows through the hole in the wall on this very foggy morning. My mother was still sound asleep next to me. As I continued to gaze out of the hole, I heard the floor creak near the door. I turned around and there was a man standing there. I was not afraid of him. I sat up in bed and watched him. He was just looking at me. He wore a tri-cornered hat and short pants with some kind of long jacket. He was dressed in clothes that I had never seen before on anyone I knew at the time.
After we both stared at each other a bit, he finally spoke. He seemed to be confused. I remember he was asking me what time it was. Then he asked if I knew the whereabouts of someone. I told him I didn't know. Then funny enough I asked him for a glass of water. He again just stared at me with this confused look on his face. His English wasn't the English you hear today in America. It was a different accent. I remember thinking that this man really spoke funny. Knowing myself as a child I may have even told him so.
We both stared at each for a few minutes more and then he turned around and left through the bedroom door. I got out of bed and went to the hallway to see where he went. I think I was really hoping he'd be back with that glass of water. He was gone and all was quiet. My mother woke up and asked me what I was doing out of bed. I told her that I was talking to the man. She said, "Who? You're Uncle?"
"No," I answered. "The man..." She assumed I had been dreaming and told me to go back to bed before I woke the rest of the household.
This memory has stayed with me for years. It wasn't until I was in my 20s that my Mother and I talked about this event. I never even thought it could have been a ghost. Now I realize how odd it was to have seen someone dressed the way he was in a really remote part of Maine in the wee hours of the morning.
I entitled this story 'The Minute Man' because I have such a memory of that tri-cornered hat. That was the style of hat that was worn by the Minute Men soldiers that fought against the British during the Revolution. I don't really know if there was any history in that area or who this man could have been. If anyone knows anything about the history of this area, I would be interested in hearing.