I am very lucky to have been born into the family that also contained my Aunt Eva, one of the most magical people I have ever encountered. She was alternatively referred to as a witch, a Satanist, a whore, and the life of the party everywhere she went. She took the older kids in the family to haunted houses around Halloween, where my mom had no interest in paying someone money to try and scare you. But Eva seemed to live for thrills and frills, all made up with no where to go, and she was the first woman I ever met who always wore wigs, I don't think I ever saw her natural hair. In the mythology of my childhood she looms large, sometimes through first-hand memory but also through the recollections of others in my family and this has colored my perception of this woman, who passed away in 2009, but is still very alive and vibrant, the aftereffect of a kinda charmed life, maybe even jinxed, but she was certainly an unforgettable character. I would like to share some of my memories, but thinking about only allowing for my stories to be heard provided but one reflection of this woman and who she was, but also to seek out the stories of my sisters and mother, and others who knew her. I haven't decided yet if I want to keep her anonymous to perhaps 'protect' her sanctity but then, the kind of lady she was, I think she'd love the hell out of it if the whole world knew her name. So maybe this is her helping me out with this? Wouldn't be surprised.
I can google my Aunt and I'm amazed at some of the things I've found, due to her being involved in the politics of a small town in Ohio, but there's other stuff too. I found this page called tributes.com and there was her brief obituary. They left out all of the good parts.
I didn't attend her funeral. She passed away in 2009, halfway through the summer. I know I should have, and I regret not seeing her one last time. It had been the summer of 1995 when I last saw her, the summer I fell in love with a beautiful girl; we had a small family get together for the Fourth of July. She seemed as wicked and as full of life as she had always been, even though she had endured some serious health problems but somehow managed to bounce back, and she still smelled the same when I hugged her, a scent I have never smelled before or since but unforgettable in my memory, the smell of sweet flowers wilting in a humid greenhouse.
My Aunt was the first person who demonstrated there may be an alternative to traditional methods of belief and spiritualism. I was raised in a religious family and we went to church every Sunday, and I took to certain sections of the Bible when I was very young, somewhat fanatically. According to some people, my Aunt was a witch, others said she conjured spirits, others say she worshipped the Devil. Honestly, I was too young to really fully understand what she practiced, but it amazed me and enchanted, even when 'bad' things would happen to her, that was as engrossing as hearing about her experiments with leaving tape recorders in graveyards overnight and then playing back EVP's of people moaning and babies crying. There were kid stories I heard about seeing the leftover remnants of rituals, of weird images appearing on the walls of the basement (where I'm assuming most of the rituals took place). Even driving past their house, years after they'd moved out, I would feel a charge, the tiniest voltage of an energy that I could barely process but certainly feel.
I don't know for sure how she grew up, if it was all just rebellion against authority, or if she just liked to shock and awe, because that was part of her repertoire, catching you off guard. Maybe she just made up some of the stories, perhaps fleshed them out to give my aunts and uncles and grandparents a figurative goose. There were tales of possessed Ouija Boards, of ghostly aura photographs depicting the faces of demons. And I know there's so much more that I am not remembering.
I remember my Grandmother recounting of Eva's experience with the Ouija. I think around this time there must have been a wave of popularity for mysticism in general and pop culture magic in particular. Eva had brought a board home, to where she was living with her husband and his parents. Apparently she used it frequently, at once both exploring and consulting, I'd assume. I don't know if you've ever used a Ouija board, but if you have, you know that, unless there's another pair of fingertips on the planchette it's going nowhere on the board. I've tried it in the past and just felt silly, but with two people there is a synergy that enhances the experience. Perhaps Aunt Eva had enough synergy to communicate with the other side, where the dead rest? I don't know. There are many schools of thought on what is happening when you use the Ouija. Maybe it's your subconscious, just telling you what you want to read (actually, I take back my previous statement. A third person is essential for serious Ouija use, as they act as scribe and intrepeter.) My Grandmother believed in evil spirits, and demons, and that a Ouija board was an invitation into your very soul from these tempestuous beings. And apparently, Eva caught the 70's equivalent of a computer virus when one of those evil spirits got in through the open gate and took over the board. Grandma told me in an empty room the planchette would suddenly glide across the surface as you watched from the doorway. The board would be put away for the night, only to be found set up in its regular space the next morning. I don't know what kind of things it told Eva, but it must have been too much for her because she decided it was time to get rid of it.
So, here it gets a little weirder. Grandma said Eva took the board outside and threw it into the burn barrel, only to come back with a gas can and matches. She tried to burn it but the board itself would not blacken or char. Nothing, it seemed, could destroy it or remove it from Eva's life. I don't know where the Ouija board finally ended up, but, as the story went, where the Ouija board had leapt by itself from the firry pit and landed, the grass was different. It left a nuclear mark, killing the grass, an indelible effect upon the blades as they would not be ever growing there again. And that's when Grandma showed me the spot in the yard, and yeah, it did kind of look kind of funny having so much overgrowth surrounding it, this dead patch of ground, and of course I believed it all. Why not believe in a world where there are other forces swirling around us, every day and we barely notice, but sometimes you can find a transistor to tune in a particular signal, to touch something others might label as evil but was perhaps malignantly maligned?
Many years later, as a curious teen, I found myself interested in the Ouija, and I wanted to look past the veil for myself, and this seemed to be the method not only the most commercially accessible but also seemed so taboo. I found that in my experiences certain messages do come through the ether, but I don't know how reliable that information is, since, like, you're seeking advice from a pressed board and a magnifying glass on felt tipped feet. Perhaps there remains a need in us from more primitive times when we still sought the conch of the presences of those who have passed on, ancestor worship reduced to something you can buy at Toys R Us (I think they still sell them there, but I don't think Walmart does.)
There were many odd superstitions I seem to have inherited, and with that birthright I have sought out the energy source of belief, following it back to the source for myself. And its taken me a lifetime, but on my way there she is, my Aunt, as tourguide and flamebearer in the darkness.
So I intend to return to her story from time to time, as I learn more about her and maybe others will come forward to help me tell about her. So try and not be alarmed.
And now, here's the Eagles classic, 'Witchy Woman."
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