Gay Agenda #1: My Dad’s Ghost Keeps Sending Me Custom Pens? 💀✒️

The Ghostly Shenanigans of My Dad (4-Minute Read)

Obviously, it’s part of the gay agenda to talk about ghosts because name a lesbian that’s not a witch. I’ll wait.

This isn’t just random ghost-talk; it’s my dad still chiming in from the other side. Let me tell you about the shenanigans he’s pulled from beyond the grave.

My Dad and His Pen Obsession

My dad passed in 2018, but we keep in touch. I write him letters, and he occasionally acknowledges them with signs that match his impish sense of humor. So, here’s the pen saga to date. 

Pens
Respectfully, my dad was a pen freak. He was office-supply obsessed and loved to write by hand. (Same.) Working for himself, he ordered branded pens for his business, and our family’s house overflowed with them. My mom and I teased him about it when he was alive, and we still laugh about it.

So, how does my dad’s spirit respond to our teasing? By somehow sending more custom pens to the house from beyond the grave. Imagine my surprise when I’m staying with my mom in 2020, and a free custom pen sample arrives in the mail. The pen bears my name, followed by my mom’s town and my dad’s old office landline from when we lived in a different part of the state. What a specific and odd combo of information. I immediately knew it was him; we were delighted. I wrote him a thank-you note using said pen.

Fast forward four years. 

I’m running out of pens in my apartment in New York, so I set a reminder to ask my mom for spare pens during my next visit. After all, I’ve “shopped” for them there my whole life. During this same visit, I also ask for my dad’s fancy fountain pens and my mom is thrilled they’ll be put to use because they were so expensive. We laugh about how obsessed he was.

Trust, my dad’s spirit’s ears perk the f up, as if I’d just bought a high-end office supply kit.

My mom gets me the fountain pens and, without really looking, grabs a handful of regular ballpoint pens too. She hands them to me. I start laughing. Among them is a new custom pen with my name on it! It has the same words on it as the pen that came in 2020, only this one has a fresh design. We laugh, knowing exactly who to thank. How the hell does a spirit manifest physical objects?

I don’t know what to tell you

The Eternal Light Switch Debate

Now let’s talk about lights—another favorite category for my dad. He was obsessive about turning out the lights at night. As a light sleeper, he was highly sensitive to any illumination. (Again, same.) He would even get up hours after going to bed to turn off lights he thought I forgot, only to find me still using them. I could practically hear him say, “I’ll reference this when I mess with Jo when I’m a ghost.”

Lights that Weren’t Connected to Power
My mom gave me an orb light and a pair of tabletop mini lamps she wasn’t using anymore (pictured). They’re all powered via rechargeable battery. The orb can glow in any color, do a rainbow gradient, and has what I call “party mode,” which flashes through all the colors.

Strangely, one of the mini lamps refuses to stay off after I’m done using it. My mom didn’t experience this phenomenon, yet it’s happened to me several times. The most annoying part? Only one of the two mini lamps does this, and since they match, I can’t tell which one to avoid. Because why do it with both lamps when you could add another layer to this game?

So, I don’t use them often anymore because of this. But when I do, I move the offending lamp to be within arm’s reach at night so I can turn it back off as needed. Sometimes it does a little brightness dance, kind of like a crowd doing the wave at a sporting event. Honestly, it’s hilarious—until it gets old. I’ll try to capture a video at some point.

One night this summer, I was trying to sleep, and my dad’s impish lamp game was getting out of hand. It turned back on at least five times in a row. The timing and brightness of it were comedic. Then my orb light, which I had not used nor charged in six months, turns on! It goes straight to party mode! (Pop off, Dad!) I groan, sit up in bed, and sternly say, “Stop it.” It stops right away. Darkness for the rest of the night.

I’m gearing up to give him another chance to comment tonight by charging and using my little battery-operated lamps—because, hey, journalistic integrity.

Said lamps and #partyorb