Harry Potter and the Trip to Massachusetts
17/05/2007 08:15 PM
"Da dum da dum da da da da dum, dum
dum dum dum da."
In case you didn't notice, that was the theme to Harry Potter; and if you did notice, hello fellow Muggle or Squib. I am writing to you from the deliciously wicked Salem, Massachusetts; home of no less than 19 interred fallen, accused witches, a covenant of real-life Wiccan followers, and many liberal people who love the fact that it's Halloween year-round in their home town.
It seems fitting that the reading that I brought along with me includes two books filled with Harry Potter critical essays in preparation for a fantasy literature unit I'm planning, the last installment to the aforementioned series, and the fifth movie, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So, I'm a nerd...what's wrong with that? I was subtly devouring my entertaining, yet intellectual essays until I caught the attention of more than a few of my fellow travelers. One of them, in fact, has borrowed one of the books...but I won't name names.
My closed mouth, however, seems to be uncharacteristic of what we learned at the fabulously tacky, yet educational, Salem Witch Museum. It seems that naming names is the thing to do when you're looking for some action in an otherwise mundane life. Learning about the Salem Witch Trials was right up my Diagon Alley (ba-dum-dum). I love hearing about times in our country's history when our ancestors made complete fools of themselves. The knowledge gives me a false security that the same thing won't ever happen again. I'm always wrong, of course. At the museum they had an interesting formula for witch hunts: fear + trigger = scapegoat. For instance, during World War Two the fear of Japan as an enemy, plus the attack on Peal Harbor, equaled Japanese-American internment camps. The curators applied the same formula to the actual witch hunts, McCarthyism, and gay bashing. I found the formula simplistic, yet effective in order to explain a complex and horrific process in shorter terms.
But I'm still not naming names. In the true spirit of my rebellious sisters of the darker cloth, I am mum. To those closet Harry Potter fans who choose to remain anonymous, I'll watch for your sleepy eyes after a post-midnight-release-party marathon read of the final installment and laugh (quite like the Wicked Witch of the West) as you attempt to hide it
In case you didn't notice, that was the theme to Harry Potter; and if you did notice, hello fellow Muggle or Squib. I am writing to you from the deliciously wicked Salem, Massachusetts; home of no less than 19 interred fallen, accused witches, a covenant of real-life Wiccan followers, and many liberal people who love the fact that it's Halloween year-round in their home town.
It seems fitting that the reading that I brought along with me includes two books filled with Harry Potter critical essays in preparation for a fantasy literature unit I'm planning, the last installment to the aforementioned series, and the fifth movie, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So, I'm a nerd...what's wrong with that? I was subtly devouring my entertaining, yet intellectual essays until I caught the attention of more than a few of my fellow travelers. One of them, in fact, has borrowed one of the books...but I won't name names.
My closed mouth, however, seems to be uncharacteristic of what we learned at the fabulously tacky, yet educational, Salem Witch Museum. It seems that naming names is the thing to do when you're looking for some action in an otherwise mundane life. Learning about the Salem Witch Trials was right up my Diagon Alley (ba-dum-dum). I love hearing about times in our country's history when our ancestors made complete fools of themselves. The knowledge gives me a false security that the same thing won't ever happen again. I'm always wrong, of course. At the museum they had an interesting formula for witch hunts: fear + trigger = scapegoat. For instance, during World War Two the fear of Japan as an enemy, plus the attack on Peal Harbor, equaled Japanese-American internment camps. The curators applied the same formula to the actual witch hunts, McCarthyism, and gay bashing. I found the formula simplistic, yet effective in order to explain a complex and horrific process in shorter terms.
But I'm still not naming names. In the true spirit of my rebellious sisters of the darker cloth, I am mum. To those closet Harry Potter fans who choose to remain anonymous, I'll watch for your sleepy eyes after a post-midnight-release-party marathon read of the final installment and laugh (quite like the Wicked Witch of the West) as you attempt to hide it