Ghost Upon the Floor

     Welcome back, October. How I have missed you. The weather, the cool, the colors begin. The harvest, the abundance, the peak of life. Is there a better way to ring the month where autumn takes full hold, than in a pumpkin patch?

     I don't believe so. This past Sunday, a visit to Kelkenberg Farms in Akron, New York. A warm morning, a quiet farm of several acres. Fourteen dollars allows one a ticket to the corn maze and the pumpkin patch. We wandered around the farm before the horse-drawn ride out to the pumpkin patch. We saw a charming old dog blind in one eye, the chickens, the goats, the horses. We walked through rows and rows of mums, past corn stalks for sale and into a country store that smelled of candle wax and pumpkin spice.



      And then we boarded the cart. The horses take you a distance from the main farm, and out to the pumpkin patch. Having not been in such a pumpkin patch for many years, the childlike glee that filled my Halloween haunted soul was almost too much to take. Unlike many farms and places where pumpkins are sold, Kelkenberg allows you to pick any pumpkin, regardless of size. We walked amongst the rows of pumpkin vines, bright orange decaying pumpkins, perfectly shaped pumpkins, enormous pumpkins. In search of the great pumpkin, the one I would take home.



      In the end, I decided on the largest pumpkin I'd ever brought home. Not the biggest one from the patch of so many, but the largest one the best for carving that I could find. This decision I regretted almost instantly on the walk back through the patch, to where the horses would pick us up and take us back to the farm; I persevered. Stopping more than once to rest. And am glad I did. Finding our pumpkins, washing off the mud in a basin with a pump. Exploring the corn maze, with friends, a candy apple and cider in hand. The perfect way to welcome the season of the witch, the month of the orange glow.

     Welcome, October.

     In Salem, when we weren't in cemeteries, we were walking around the city. Visiting the magic shops, the mystical places that offered stones to help with stress, love and other things in life. We saw the shops selling Halloween goods, and museums dedicated to the trials. And we saw the statue of Elizabeth Montgomery, the actress who played the witch character of Samantha on the 1960s-1970s TV series.

      We saw the other side of Salem, the histroy unrelated-- directly-- to the witch trials. The places of Nathaniel Hawthorne, starting with the Customs House. At the Customs House, we were given an incredible tour by a US Parks Ranger who wore his interest for the writer Hawthorne on his sleeve. We saw the original, striking and initimdating eagle statue famously described in Hawthorne's novel "The Scarlett Letter," and we toured a ship outside the Customs House at the Salem Maritime Musuem. We then saw the real House of the Seven Gables, which is famously the setting of Hawthorne's ghost story. Photos were not allow in the House, but there was a cat who lived there. And the tour was taken up a concealed staircase to an attic room where enslaved people slept. The air in this attic was, to say the absolute least, heavy, and hard.


     From there we saw the Witch House, the only building still standing with an actual connection to the Witch Trials. The House of Judge Jonathan Corwin, aside from providing a look at how a home was kept at the time of the trials, also gave us an opportunity to see a spoon believed to have been owned by trial victim John Proctor.




     But leaving Salem, we made the most meaningful stop of all. Before we left, to begin the drive home, we drove to a street in Danvers, and drove down a narrow driveway in between two houses and properties to some woods. A Massachusetts historical sign proclaimed this the "Samuel Parris Archealogical Site." Just in the first few trees in these woods, there is a stone foundation left from what appears a small home. This foundation belong to Samuel Parris, and it was here in his house where the hysteria was born; where Tituba entertained the girls who would go on to accuse women and men of witchcraft with her fantastical stories. Being on the quiet grounds is deeply moving, bringing the magnitude of the tragedy so great it has become a tourist attraction because of its history and the lore it produces home to a place where you know, so clearly, this was all so real.

     There was no one else in the next cemetery we visited. The Howard Street Cemetery lies away from the Old Burying Point, the magic shops and the majoirty of the tourist attractions in Salem. We followed our map down a residential street, and crossed over to another.

      We came next to the Old Salem Burying Ground. The land in the middle of the city isn't big, and it isn't small. Following along the street, I first thought we might not be walking in the right direction for the cemetery. Past houses and buildings and storefronts it lies, simply there. The cemetery, and the souls, that have laid there for so many years.


      We walked into the cemetery when it was empty. The stores and shops and attractions had been full as we passed them, and it seemed somehow odd, a kind of wrong that those who lived this history that put Salem on the map lay silent, univisited. My ignorance on exactly who is interred in the Old Salem Burying Ground quickly faded when my friend remarked that the victims of the trials were not here, but the judges were. Why weren't the victims here, I asked? Because they were convicted witches, and could not be buried in afforded a Christian burial in hollowed ground, I found.

      None of the famous victims-- Rebecca Nurse, Giles Corey, Mary Eastey, John Proctor-- are buried in the Old Salem Burying ground. Most of their final resting places remain unknown, with the notable exception of Rebecca Nurse, who had family who removed her body from the shallow grave where she was buried with other victims near the gallows, and brought her back to the family homestead to be properly buried. The Rebecca Nurse Homestead, in present day Danvers, MA, allows you to visit the historical Nurse family homestead, and pay your respects at Rebecca's grave. We did not make it over to the Homestead this trip, which I regret. Perhaps on a future return trip.



     While none of the victims are within the old burying ground, there is an honest and moving memorial to the victims on the outer edge of the cemetery. Stone benches with each victim's name are placed around a rectangular area with an open entryway resembling an unbarred prison, adorned with quotes inscribed on the ground from the victims' proclaiming their innocence. Without graves, walking from stone to stone, from John  Proctor to Sarah Good, I was left with the feeling that I had visited them, and laid my respects.

     Laying just outside the memorial is Judge John Hawthorne, who is buried in the ground of the Old Burying Point. His gravestone, old and from another time, has been preserved in the way many others in the cemetery have been, and reinforced. The judge who had such a direct hand in the murder of the victims has been sentenced, in death, to lie beside the memorial to the injustice he carried out, and the bold poetry of that circumstance is-- if not just-- fitting.

      While gravestones like Judge Hawthorne's have been aided in the quest to last through time, others have not. Stones from over 300 years ago stand tall, still upright, many clearly marked up by visitors attempting to read them. White lines made with stones highlight names and dates on grave markers that have stood so long they are decaying their self. The inscriptions for Giles Corey's, the victim who was sentenced to be crushed to death, first wife-- and others-- have been marked this way.

     And the stones are beautiful. The level and style of simple, direct decoration used going back what is now a few hundred years are all their own, and standing in that cemetery, in Salem, you understand it. The crudely drawn skeletons with wings, perched atop a stone, the simple designs of intertwined hearts. You understand something about these people. What they believed, and what death looked like to them.

     Apart from the Judge, the other famous residents of the old burying ground are those who came close to the history that makes Salem famous. Mary Corey, first wife of victim Giles Corey, lies far and to the back of the cemetery. And in a section covered by a few trees, over to the side, lies Nathaniel Mather, brother of Puritan and witchcraft expert Cotton Mather. In his writings, Cotton Mathew documented the witch trials, and in many ways fueled beliefs that led to the hysteria-- to the point where his writings are even mentioned as something the fictional Ichabod Crane-- superstitious believer in witchcraft and all things occult-- reads in Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Standing in front of Nathaniel's grave, his brother Cotton Mather-- who was almost a character in the tale of the Headless Horseman, and certainly a player in the witch trials-- became more real to me, the fears and superstitions and prejudices of the trials stepping out of their graves and into the light.

     Walking out of the cemetery, we watched a bus of people on some type of senior citizen's tour disembark, and begin to file into the victims' memorial. And then, several other tourists began to wander in. We had, we found, caught the old burying point during a rare quiet time.


View my whole album of the first day in the Old Burying Point here.

 After the Witch Museum, we decided to walk through Salem. The town, the city, is so beautiful. Being populated does not stop this New England community from appearing moderately sleepy, easily laid down and back-- but full of activity and life. So many people have come to Salem, to stay and to see, and because of this there are so many things to do while you are there.


 The trend begun with the witch museum, where the legitimately historical (the Roger Conant statue) stand aside the melting pot which Salem has become (the museum) continues. On our walk to what would become our first official stop, the Old Salem Burying Ground, took us to a statue of  actress Elizabeth Montgomery, who for years played a fictional witch on the television show "Bewitched." 


We turned a corner and walked by storefronts of businesses belonging to witches, those who practice and or believe in magic, psychics, fortune tellers and every type of belief and person in between. Walking along the water, we found this desk-- which I so dearly would love to have taken home, at the curb on the boardwalk. Only in Salem. And this is what makes this place so special. I wish we could have seen more of the side of Salem, where those who practice the arts of telling fortunes, magic and Witchcraft are. Whenever the subject came up around locals, we were met with testimonials as to who was the real deal, who was not and which ones spent their time in between. The closest we came was stopping in two shops to buy crystals and stones, which were said to help those who carry them on their person with stress and anxiety in life. A post detailing their results will come soon.

 The witchcraft in Salem that is alive and well is no one witch. It is the victims of the witchcraft hysteria, it is the modern day people who practice the religion Wicca, it is Elizabeth Montgomery playing Samantha on "Bewitched," it is the burying ground in the middle of the city, it is the crystals and stones, the witch hat made of a plate and ice cream cones in the coffee shop. The witchcraft of Salem is everything the term has ever meant at once-- and the way the people, streets and places of Salem embrace this destination as a constant season of the witch is a wonderful thing.

We decided to go see "The Salem Witch Museum" first. For all Salem has become known to be, the Witch Museum is very much a tourist attraction, billed as one of the city's quintessential stops. I had no idea what to expect.

 On an island in a crosswalk just in front of the Witch Museum, stands a stern, cloaked figure from the past. With his tall hat and dress, one believes this grave figure long since faded to history to be a statue of someone from the Witch Trials. One of the judges, perhaps, who sent the innocent accused to their deaths. This man, standing just across from the door of the Salem Witch Museum, is so much the city, if you look the right way you might see the fearful, ignorant, extreme suspicion that fueled so much of the witch hysteria on his face. The man whose likeness the statue bears is Roger Conant, the credited founder of Salem. Conant died in 1679, years before the start of the witchcraft trials, and is oft-referred to as having nothing to do with Salem's witch history. Whether intentional or not, the likeness he bears here is very much of the times. Those dark, desolate years in a new world when so many were so uncertain of their survival. On the statue's face, you can see the time from which the trials were birthed.



Passing Roger Conant, you come to the door of the Salem Witch Museum. Housed in an old church, the Witch Museum keeps you guessing about what it will be. And a many things the museum is. There's something fitting about the main attraction being in a former church, the most vocal record of what this somewhat religiously-fueled hysteria became. When you buy your ticket for the museum after having walked through the large church front doors, you settle yourself in for an undoubtedly touristy experience. On goes the yellow sticker which sets you into groups to go in and see the show of the museum. The sticker bears the museum logo- a stereotyped witch, with a pointed hat, black cat and broom. Comically Gothic lights adorn the dark hall, while you wait with your group to go into the auditorium for the initial show. At this point, you are allowed no photos, and so there are no pictures I have of the historical and informational panels that line the front hall. Reading them quickly in the dim light, I was struck by the depth put into the writing on the wall, which seemed far more than I had expected until this point.

 The auditorium is large, and rectangular. There are seats all along the walls, and when you sit in them you look up to a series of stages-- also as long as the walls-- with darkened scenes. When everyone is in a seat or standing against the wall, the show starts.

 I don't know how long ago the narration was recorded, or how old the equipment used to play it on is, but the sound would-- just almost-- be at home on an old album crinkling from my childhood record player. Spooky sound effects start, and a gravely-toned description of what the residents of Salem believed as far as witches, spirits, devils and ghosts is read. And I was surprised. As each scene lights up, showing mannequins and dummies depicting John Proctor, the accusing girls and Tituba telling these girls fantastical stories on dark winter nights-- the museum paints a far more balanced description of the past than I was expecting. While the Salem Witch Museum may have gotten you in based on the depictions of the traditional, stereotypical witch, they waste no time in discussing how the accused were treated and abused, by ignorant people who were foolish and or terrified enough to believe in witches.

 The museum exhibit after the main show is even more enlightening. The rooms in the back depict a well-researched and presented exhibition of what the "witch" has meant historically, in the past and present of society. Beginning with early people who worshiped or regarded nature, moving into women who presented a threat to practiced medicine by using herbs and cleaning people, problems and wounds with things like water-- the museum shows how the marginalized other has so often been accused of witchcraft. The presentation even touches on McCarthyism in the United States in the 1950s, and the demonization of gay men at the height of the HIV/AIDs crisis. I was impressed.

 The gift shop at the Salem Witch Museum is a candy store for children of the night like myself. One of everything, yes, please. I believe I came back with prints, a Dia de los Muertos mug and Christmas ornaments, a mood ring, a witch sun catcher, several books, magnets, pens and other such witchy goodies.

 With the balance of confronting the past and the trials in a balanced way, and the embracing of the modern day witch culture, and the cultural meaning the the stereotype of a witch has come to mean, the Salem Witch Museum is highly recommend, and a highly recommend gateway into the experience of the city.

     Last fall, when the wind was just starting to cool down, and the leaves were just short days from beginning to curl up and die, I made it to Salem, Massachusetts. Upon hearing the word-- Salem-- images are insantly conjured up out of the fall leaves, of one of the darker chapters in the history of the land and communitites we now know as America.