REPAYING THE SALEM FAMILY FAVOR

Nothing is quite like spending the day in Salem, Massachusetts.  To be honest, I didn't spend the entire day in Salem today, either, but I have done so many times, and it still somehow gets under my skin that there are people who cash in on the whole witch thing.

Don't get me wrong.  I think the Witch City theme is brilliant, catchy, and monetarily viable.  However, as someone who has accused witches (hanging) in her family tree, it still irks me when newbies come to town to practice their dark arts.

Puhleeze.  The Salem Witch Scare, Witch Hunt, and Witch Trials (whatever gimmicky name you want to assign to the 1692-1693 debacle) were politically motivated and legally sanctioned land-grabbing.  Nobody was really practicing death-inducing chants and spells.  Okay, except Tituba.  Tituba might've been doing that.

Sometimes when I'm in Salem I go to Judge Hathorne's grave just to admonish him.  Stupid, stupid man.  Dumb idiot.  Such an embarrassment to the family that Nathaniel had to change the spelling of his own name.  Sometimes I drive past Gallows Hill, aka Proctor's Ledge, which is in Salem.  Much of the witch hysteria, though, really happened in Danvers . . . and Amesbury and Andover, too.

So, Salem, I continue my love-hate relationship with you.  I stare awestruck at the statue of my birthday-buddy Nathaniel, and I scoff kiddingly at the statue of Samantha from Bewitched. Since May 10, 2017, is coming up, and since I've been in Salem, I just think now might be the time to bring up this great commemorative moment:

May 10, 1717, marks the death of John Hathorne, magistrate who presided over the pretrial examinations of those accused of witchcraft.  Three hundred years later, I certainly hope you are not resting peacefully.  If I practiced the dark arts myself, I'd see to it personally - repay the family favor.