If there were a place that you could make something disappear and no one would ever find it, what would you put there? Who would you put there? Tucked in the woods of central Pennsylvania, there’s a hole, the locals call it The Pit. In the mid-40s it appeared one day after an earthquake. That’s the same day, Jim Kenyon disappeared. Over the next seventy years, the Pit’s lore and mystique grew, attracting local kids, out-of-town strangers, religious zealots, scientists and more. Each with their reason to visit the Pit. Now, what if after all those years of hiding things, hiding people, the Pit sent everything back? This is a collection of stories of people and their encounters with the Pit.
As a kid, I remember cobbling scrap wood together in my grandfather's workshop, surrounded by oily smells, odd bits of metal and wood, screws and nails. All sorts of wonderful tools hung neatly on a wall of Masonite pegboard. His work table scarred and stained by decades of home repair projects and hobbies. As I learned to use these tools 'properly,' he would tell me amazing stories of his youth.
To see him, you would think he was simply a construction worker, a devout family man with three boys and loving wife. Yet behind his oversized glasses and giant elf-like ears, there was an adventurer, a cowboy, and a fighter.
By the time, I had grown to be considered a friend, not just an adored grandson, he was worn down; bad heart, out of shape and a little tired, but when he share stories about his Army buddies or running around the neighborhood with the boys, the years dropped from him in an instant.
His adventures and life lessons learned along the way affect me deeply as a person, a father, and a storyteller. I save most of my stories for my children but get inspired, or brave enough, to share a few of them with others.