One evening, many years ago, when my grandmother was still on this earth, we sat in the living room just talking. The front door was open and we could see the street outside through the screen. That brought up the story of strangers knocking on the door. Grandma (we called her Nana) launched into one of her periodic reminiscences, and told of a dark night when she was alone in the house, and a knock began on the front door. She looked through the peep hole and saw a sailor standing on the porch, wearing what looked like an antique uniform, but when she went to open the door, he had vanished. She quickly stepped outside and ran to the sidewalk and looked both ways, but there was no sign of him. Where had he gone? To this day, that mysterious knock on the door has gone unsolved.
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