In Concord MA, otherwise known as Sleepy Hollow to those who are not familliar with the cemetery there, there was a party in a townhouse, thrown by a wealthy businessman from Portsmouth. The neice of this man was Charlotte Bronson, who was invited to this party. Tavast O'Shea, a fabulously wealthy Boston merchant who was courting Charlotte, accompanied her to this party. Tavast was going with full intention to announce their engagement. This idea was meant as a status symbol, because the most popular people in New England were supposed to be there. The night was a cool damp September one, and the carriage ride was an uncomfortable one. The couple arrived in the townhouse, and decided after a few dances to go for a stroll, on which Tavist was intending to ask Charlotte. The two of them found what they thought was a park through which to stroll. On the way they walked past many markers but were too engrossed with each other to realize what they were. Tavast was trippping over his words to ask Charlotte when there was a man's voice in front of them commanded them to stop. This man was suddenly joined by a band of five others. Tavast immediately recognized the man as one of his captains. This particular captain was known to be a violent man so Tavist shifted Charlotte behind him. Back at the party there were two simultaneous blood curdling screams which penetrated through the skin of all the attendees, coming from the direction of the Hollow. When a group of men went out to the hollow, they found a trail of clothing leading them to a certain tree, where two distinct bodies hung, with their skins at their feet. The men were mortified, but one man curious at the inscription on the tree peered closer, and read "For those of us who are living for the success of life, we must be left alone. But for those umong us who peer too closely into things under the skins of fine men, their final whim will be failure, because it will be they whose skin is under which is got." To this day, the carving resonates throughout diaries from the time, and even the police did not believe the men about the story, because when they arrived, there was no evidence except for an old length of rope hanging from the tree, which had obviously been recently cut. The murder was never solved, and the police do not even have a record of the incident, although they have a record of Mr. Bronson's house being vanalized the following day during church services.
I'm not sure if this is what you're looking for, but I SWEAR it really happened!! I was taking a shower (wait, that's not the scary part) and I had shut the door to keep out my cat, Horus. She likes to rub up against my legs when I get out, leaving a bunch of her shedding fur stuck to me. I shut and LATCHED the door in her face, feeling triumphant. When I stepped out of the shower, she was sitting right in the middle of the bathroom, staring straight at me. The door was still shut and latched behind her. I was the only one in the house. I could see that maybe if I hadn't latched the door properly the cat could have pushed it open. But would she really have pushed it shut behind her?? I think the Egyptians knew what they were talking about. I think cats only pretend to be stupid to further their own agendas. She was definitely letting me know I can't shut her out, that she is the power player in the relationship. Creepy...
One day there was a man who was driving to a downtown restaurant for his lunch break. Suddenly he parks his car in the middle of the road and begins to call 911. After finishing his conversation with the operator he proceeds to pass out. When he finally wakes up he’s in a hospital bed with a bandage on his head. He calls in a nurse and asks her why he is in the hospital. She proceeds to tell him that he was found passed out in his car with a wound to his head. The doctors took him into surgery and found a bullet lodged in his brain. Miraculously the bullet did not cause any damage and was removed without complications. The man left the hospital a week later having made a full recovery. The cops performed a full investigation but the only evidence they found was a small hole in the roof of the car were the bullet had passed through. They still do not know were the bullet came from nor how the man survived a bullet to the head.
There was this father and "son" sniper team....oh wait, a fictional story....Alongside Wisconsin state highway 79, as it winds through the Oneida Indian Reservation, is a large rock with a simiple brown sign containing a simple golden engraving that reads "Oneida Spirit Rock." The legend is this rock represents the spirit of the tribe, and the tribe will survive for as long as the rock. As you can imagine, many uneducated and racist white people have done their utmost to destroy this symbol. What is interesting is the fate that the more bold of these men have met. In the early 1970's, a group of such men attempted to steal this rock from the reservation in the dead of night. They pulled up alongside the rock and managed to roll the rock up a long plank into the back of their truck. The truck then began to wind its way down the hill, when inexplicably, the relatively new, unworn, right front tire blew out and the truck veered off the road and over the cliff into the Wolf River. Amazingly, the great spirit rock was found in the morning to be sitting alongside the road where the truck veered off. The four men were all found dead inside the cab of the truck, the planks were found under the upside down truck in the river, and a small piece of the spirit rock, in the shape of a tamahawk head, was said to have smashed through the back window and lodged itself in the back of the head of the driver. Amazingly, there are still those who call upon the "white" people to sacrifice their lives in the destruction of the rock, as these four "brave" individuals have done; however, not a single one of these vocal "leaders" has yet attempted to "lead the way." Today, the rock can be seen sitting alongside the road again on its pedestal, with the chipped portion facing out for all to see.
Monday, October 21, 2002
Titus Maccius Plautus, 254 to 184 B.C., could be very easily considered the greatest Roman comic playwright ever. Bert covered his history quite nicely. (See 2 blogs down). Basically, after business plans failed, he decided to try his hand at writing comedies. Apparently he was quite good at them because the Romans and quite a few Greeks thoroughly enjoyed them. In fact, people still enjoy his plays today. Oddly enough, one of my favorite musicals is based on his comedy Pseudolus. "A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Forum" is one of my favorites. Some Staci history for ya, my Dad got it for me when I started taking Latin because he thought it'd be a great way for me to get into the groove of things. Who was to know that I would be writing a blog on it 5 years later? I do recommend checking out either the hit Broadway musical or the movie...both are fantastic, and both show the workings of a Roman comic playwright.
http://ancienthistory.about.com/library/bl/bl_plautus.htm
