"How many witches were killed in Salem Township in 1692?"

[Flip the museum display board for the answer.]

"Zero."

Thus reads the display panel at the National Park Service's Salem Heritage Site. 

"But," I sputtered.  "But I just read about 19 people killed.  But two of them were my great (x11) aunts!  But that's why we are here!"

Yes, over 200 people were accused of witchcraft in the Salem area in 1692 -1693.  Nineteen or twenty of them were killed, among them my great aunts, by hanging.  None of them were witches.

Somehow the visit to Salem in June was a turning point in witch year.  I didn't do a single tacky-touristy-witchy thing (unless you count taking a photo for this blog in front of the "Witch City Mall" windows). not just because they were tacky-touristy-wastes of money, but also because it didn't feel right.  By most definitions, I am not a witch.  While I would like to be a witch by at least a few definitions (and I am still working on defining a witch for witch year), paying some cloaked actor to talk about "real witches" while walking past the memorial to the (apparently fake) witches who lost their lives to collective hysteria isn't worthwhile witch pursuit.  I'm working out again what is.

[Images to go here include the lichen encrusted rocks with the names of my fore aunts and the dates of their hangings and me at the witch city mall.  We've recently changed computers again, and I don't have convenient access at the moment].