History Of St. Albans Sanatorium

Throughout the history of this nearly century and a half old building many have speculated and debated its former past. This exhibition presents images of the historic Lin Hall

Rd 145 soon became an integral part of everyday life in Birdseye, Indiana. Home to multiple general stores, a variety of hometown restaurants,and a hall for the Modern Woodmen of America (Huff 1), this edifice served as a gathering place for all residents, past and present, throughout its 123 year lifetime. Now nearing the end of its lifecycle once again, this unique building awaits the chance to undergo an extensive restoration to reveal its former grandeur, because as Helmut Jahn once said, “Every building is a prototype. No two are alike,” (Demakis 12). Preserving this crumbling Italianate gem will not only provide a cultural hotspot for the town of Birdseye; it will give residents the opportunity to learn about the structure’s illustrious past and the history of the town itself while also telling the stories of many past residents and the challenges they

If a neighborhood this elegant is rarely used, it begs the question; why bother with its expensive upkeep instead of putting up modern developments? How does the preservation of St. James' homes benefit other

Many legends of hauntings in Mankato, Minnesota have been told time after time. Though many people tell these stories, it is unknown to whether or not they are true. In this research paper, I will discuss several different legends that have been told throughout time in Mankato. The legends I will further examine are: the legend of Sibley Park, the Memorial Library on campus, the Carnegie Art Center, and the Witch’s Grave. Being that I am from Mankato, Minnesota, I thought it would be very interesting to research more about these legends and the experiences had in these places. Though I, myself, have not experienced anything completely unusual in these places, many people in the town have another experience. Memorates, or accounts of first hand

My legs are shaking with pain, but I need to know where I am and what strange things lie outside of that door way. Slowly I am making my way there, I hear people having a conversation just outside. I haven’t a clue what they are saying, it seems to be in some odd language. Finally I’m at the door. Terrified, I grab the knob and start to open it. It squeaks when I swing it open. In the hall I see no one, just white walls with white tile. “What the,” I say to out loud. I could have sworn I heard someone. My eye catches my room number, 387, it has my name on it. I look right and left, but see nothing expect florescent lighting and shut doors. I go to the door across from mine and try to open it. Locked, that’s odd. I try the next one, locked once again. I keep going, now at room 365 I give the knob a turn and it actually comes open. I hesitantly wander into the area. It looks the same as mine, minus the painting on one of the walls. It is an extremely abnormal painting. It depicts an out of the ordinary creature. “Why would this be in a hospital?” I whisper to myself.

Many individuals ponder whether paranormal activity in fact does exist, or whether it is just a hallucination of the mind. Although, this may be a controversial topic, countless individuals can swear that they have witnessed a spirit with their own eyes, as others couldn’t disagree more. In the book, The Hauntings of Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Jamestown, the author uses personal encounters of witnesses to justify the presence of a spirit in a historical location. The tales the author includes pertains to people from all different classes and statuses such as, slaves, soldiers, lost-lovers, and even the prosperous individuals of Virginia. Meanwhile, the author also provides historical information, by stating the establishment of towns and informing the reader about the effects of wars, such as the Revolutionary and Civil War.

The case of Esther in Nova Scotia appears, at first, to be a case of simple poltergeist

“Institutional confinement was not a major punishment in Europe until the 1600s and 1700s” (Bohm & Haley, 2011, p. 355). Prior to the 1600s, confinement was used to detain people before trial, hold prisoners awaiting other sanctions, coerce payment of debts or fines, hold and punish slaves, achieve religious doctrine or spiritual reformation, and quarantine disease (Bohm & Haley, 2011). Prior to the large-scale use of imprisonment, offenders were punished by fines, confiscation of property, and diverse methods of corporal and capital punishment (Bohm & Haley, 2011). Some popular methods of corporal and capital punishment include beheading, stoning, hanging, burning, and branding (Bohm & Haley, 2011). Reformers of the 1700s and 1800s described

At our care home we provide and assist our residents with all the support and care alongside the company and security they need, to help the residents live their lives to the fullest.

As I exited the metro bus and stepped into the cold, wet, and way-too-early Saturday morning air, my mind pounded with the self-scolding, “Why am I awake. Why am I awake?”. The second I looked up at the grey-blue sky, however, all dread evaporated. Instead, the gorgeous sight ahead filled me with an incredulous awe. The Washington National Cathedral stood towering in cream-colored splendor, its richly detailed Gothic architecture almost too picturesque to fathom. Intricate spires stood proudly against the low-hanging clouds, as if taunting them to rain. Stunned, I began to follow my friends along a blue stone path surrounded by vivid greenery. As I walked, the chill air invigorated my lungs with each breath, filling me with a sort of peaceful energy. The path led to a smaller, yet still grandiose building which we entered through two large glass doors.

* Old sites, such as the Garden festival site has been which had now been derelict for 20 years has been purchased for re - re development. This shows continued investment and development in the area highlighting the success of the scheme.

After 1989, the structure’s purpose changed entirely. In the mid-1990s the idea to create a new Spiritual Life Center for the church came about. The Parish council decided the old school building would suffice as a temporary substitute for the Spiritual Life Center until construction completed (2008). Its time as a school had ended. During its eighty years, many generations of children attended this school (1 Emmert 35). Many lessons were taught, books opened, and pencils sharpened. The era of the longest existing school in Ferdinand had come to an end (Tretter 3). “Most of the workers were in the St. Ferdinand Parish which gave us special pleasure to by puttin’ such a fine school in next to the church. We often joked that if he work go any harder, they might by buryin us here before the school was even finished. It gives me pause to think that my earthly remains will be buried at the foot of a structure which will see hundreds of years of our families come and go,” (Hilgeman

Mitchell Harmon lead me through a series of winding corridors. They were similar to those of The Fellenhoods keep, but lacked the sense of home and familiarity that I'd once felt then. Instead, the air around me seemed colder and crueller - it matched the assassins that lived there.

Enchanted by her serene radiance, I did not disturb her. Suddenly she began to speak in a whispered hum that was more like a song, unique in a dwelling full of ranting outbursts. She spoke of years long past, swimming in the pond with her sister and dancing in the moonlight. I could picture all in my head, like I was watching a movie. Then she began repeating the story she had just told me, and I realized that she was merely talking to herself. Although this discovery disenchanted me at first, I soon realized that, although the woman was talking to herself, she still had so many fantastic stories stored in her mind. The residents of the home all had some life flittering in them and numerous stories to share; they just need someone to listen to them. After my experience at the home I knew that one of my goals in life would always be o help make sure that people were receiving proper treatment, and not merely stuffed away and drugged up.

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside