My annual summer vacation with my grandpa in the Sierra Nevada foothills was always a welcome adventure. My pal, Robber, had many adventures planned for us, filling up our days. The mountains were big; we were small.

Grandpa told us to make two lists: of things that are dangerous in our mountains and what to do if that danger found us. Robber and I were serious about this important task.

We listed wild pigs, mountain lions, bears and snakes. We could step in a hole or slide down a cliff, but the worst thing of all, Robber declared, was ghosts.

“Yeah,” he said, “especially around the old abandoned Chinese miners’ cabin, there are a lot of them there.”

The next morning, my grandpa filled our day packs with what we would need to be safe in the woods: a police whistle, snakebite kit, water and sandwiches. Robber and I added a couple of old cooking pot lids tied to our belts, which we could bang like cymbals to make a big noise and scare away any beasts that came after us. We made a clanging noise as we walked, which was good to announce our presence in a loud and hopefully menacing way.

We decided right away to visit the abandoned Chinese miners’ cabin to see the ghosts for ourselves. On the way there, we talked about what we had heard in school: that the terrible war was over and we didn’t have to be scared that the bad men were coming. Robber said our side won because some hero pilots called the Tuskegee Airmen shot all the bad guys’ airplanes down. They were so brave. They even painted their propellers and tails red to be really scary, and it worked! We won the war!

“Same thing with ghosts, I can scare them away because I’m related to a Tuskegee Airman,” said Robber proudly.That made me feel a little better.

Robber continued, “I know all about ghosts. The only ones we need to worry about are the ‘trickster’ kind because they can turn themselves into animals, like the owl that flew over our heads last night or the bats under the rafters of the woodshed. Something like that could give us a big bite, and then …”

“I’m going home!” I wailed and started to run.

“Aw, don’t be a baby! I told you I have the blood of a Tuskegee Airman in me; I’ll protect you,” he said.

And so he did. It was Robber who screamed at me to run after we had glimpsed bats flying about the rafters of the haunted cabin. It was Robber who found a tree for us to climb before the ground became covered with snakes. It was Robber who remembered we were supposed to blow our police whistles if we needed rescue. That’s how my grandpa knew to come and get us.

I was 8 years old, the luckiest girl ever, protected by the Tuskegee Airmen, my grandpa and Robber.

Valerie Jelenfy Stilson is a Novato resident. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 600 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write How It Is in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.