Change of scenery, the leaves are falling, temperatures are dropping, as we head into the SEASON OF THE WITCH. Let me digress for a second, I first heard the tune “Season of the Witch” by DONOVAN about the same time when I first experienced “Hatchet Mary’s” grave. Some say it has to do with teenage initiation, like your first cigarette, your first drink, first whatever. You hear the stories and bide your time until someone, usually a bit older not necessarily wiser will say, “Let’s go to Hatchet Mary’s grave tonight”. “Yea, what fun” you think…then, IT HAPPENS.
Almost every small town has a “legend”, many have the same named one, HATCHET MARY, aka MARY HATCHET. Ours was located in Amityville, an actual grave site at THE MOTHER HOUSE of The Sisters of Saint Dominic, off of New Highway, on a dirt road next to a group of trees. The stories were Mary was hung from a tree for being a witch, OR, she hung herself because her Navy boyfriend never returned to marry her OR…so many different stories, and a few had to deal with hatchets.
Click your heels three times, say“Betelgeuse” three times, or as we knew “park your car near the grave, flash your headlights three times, honk your horn once and turn the engine off.” According to the legend, the car won’t start again until Mary appears. Being about 15 years of age I was not too sure I wanted to “see” Mary but I had to go because peer pressure dictates it. Four couples in a station wagon and away we go…
to be continued