“I dabbled into witchcraft. I never joined a coven. I hung around people who were doing these things.
I’m not making this stuff up. I know what they told me they do.”
— Christine O’Donnell, R-Delaware
Well whaddya know. Christine and I have something in common!
I too have dabbled in witchcraft, though I never joined a coven. I even hung around people who were doing these things. And like Christine, I’m not making this stuff up.
I grew up amidst self-proclaimed witches in my hometown — Salem, Massachusetts — the officially designated “Witch City”. The City’s logo is a witch on a broom. I’ve interviewed Laurie Cabot, Salem’s official witch. Twice. I grew up with Samantha, Tabitha, and Endora, stars of the beloved TV series Bewitched, which (witch?) filmed several episodes in the Witch City.
When I was a youngster, I skated and tobogganed at Gallow’s Hill Park. My high school football team name was “The Mighty Witches”. Their helmets sported a flying witch decal, black on red. My high school yearbook was called “The Witch” whose cover featured a red door with black hasps.
Several Salem businesses identify themselves with the flying witch, including the hometown newspaper whose masthead is emblazoned with the ubiquitous hag. Local law enforcement uniform patches and patrol cars carry her symbol everywhere they perform police duty. The local Coast Guard Search and Rescue unit bore the witch’s visage on its patches as well.
Downtown shops feature pentagonal signs and black magic potions. The most popular tourist attractions are the Witch House and the Witch Museum.
Halloween marks the high season in this little coastal New England town, founded in 1626.
It’s unavoidable. I mean, what’s a gal to do? Dabbling in witchcraft is a way of life in the “Witch City”.
Christine O’Donnell says if she was a witch, Karl Rove would be a supporter. Now if I was a witch, Karl Rove wouldn’t be a supporter… he’d be a frog. And it would take a mighty potent potion to turn the Republican establishment elitist into a prince.
After graduating college, I left the mystical Witch City, the land of witches and twitches only to find myself in the land of winks and blinks… another mythological place of occult where Major Nelson’s harem-attired creature blinked in and out of her bottle. Cocoa Beach is home to the genie Jeannie, where tourists pose beneath a street signed labeled “I Dream of Jeannie Lane”.
For some of us, like Christine O’Donnell and me, there’s just no escaping it. We’ve dabbled. It’s true. Now if we can just twitch our nose a little, maybe we can make the Congressional ruling elite disappear.
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