Old stuff and New England are pretty much synonymous. Traces of America's beginning litter our landscape from one end to the other, and these bits and pieces give us a sense of history (particularly the idea that this bizarre experiment we call the United States started here, thanks to a bunch of gutsy nut cases who weren't too proud to steal from the locals.)  Massachusetts is particularly good at gathering up the detritus of our past and arranging it in a way that tells our story--whether we come off looking good or not.


From Salem, MA
In Salem, pretty little cottages like this one line one side of a small green that is part of the Salem Witch Trial Memorial. The low granite wall contains benches carved with the names of the men and women murdered by the state after being accused of witchcraft.

From Salem, MA
On the way up to Salem last weekend, we listened to Arthur Miller's The Crucible.  That moment we learn that Giles Corey was pressed to death because he wouldn't admit to crimes he didn't commit choked me up yet again.  (It brought back memories of a performance of this play at the Abbey Theater in Dublin many years ago.  The audience erupted at this moment in the play, rising to their feet and clapping for Giles Corey.  The analog of British abuse in Ireland and all the show trials, wrongful imprisonments, and other forms of political control in the North was clear and obvious to that audience.)
 
From Salem, MA
From Salem, MA
From Salem, MA

Students at a school in Maine had written to the victims of the witch trials had written to the victims and explained how bullying and scapegoating go on today.  
From Salem, MA
The last words were the first words, and they were lonely words. The brutality of those times came alive and shook me perhaps because, as Arthur Miller's work reminds us, they are not so far away.

Our World Tuesday