With daughter in town, we tread the streets of Salem, Massachusetts, last Friday night, on one of a handful of tours dealing with Salem's famous, and infamous, ghosts. It was a misty eve full of promise. Our guide was 321 years old and chock full of information; and why not after 321 years old? And, she was related to Nathaniel Hawthorne, for what it's worth. I was ready - camera in hand, nerve-endings firing madly, eyes wrapped around my head! This was going to be the night! With the foggy quiet broken only by the footsteps of our little band of ghost hunters...and tourists, we set off. Oh! the stories and tales of old - the Puritans, scarlet fever, the jails, witch trials, a sadistic sheriff; all potential for a bone-chilling eve of spiritual discovery. Especially the jails - one underground from the 17th century; one more recent, dating from the 19th century, closed in 1991. The older one now has a social security office smack dab on top of it; the later was fenced in but chock full of spirits, as the story goes.
me - "another $50 to get us in."
guide - "can't do that sir, it's against the law."
me - "ok...the 50 plus bail."
Wouldn't budge, so we were on our way. We stopped by the witch memorial, someplace having to do with a pirate, a cemetery under a parking lot, and the house that inspired the creation of the game "Clue" from an event that took place in April of 1830. On all fronts...nothing:-[ With dinner at Victoria Station on Pickering Wharf, it was a pleasant evening, none the less.
Which brings me to my next topic. I've walked many a mile, through many a cemetery, but nary a spirit. What's with that? The jail in Salem should be surrounded by a swat team, and infiltrated by the FBI demanding that every ghost surrender! Then, we'll know for sure. What's with all this namby-pamby garbage? Shaky cameras, reflected light through dust particles on lenses called orbs, photoshopped!
Yes...I've walked through many with nary a ghost. And, I guess, I kind of like it that way. It's quiet, reflective, emotionally stirring for me. The last thing I would want in the field is some wannabe poltergeist photo major composing my next shot.
Anyway, that's it for now.
Think I'll take the trolley ghost tour next time.
