Berkeley Plantation

A couple of miles from Shirley Plantation we headed down another pebbled road to Berkeley Plantation.

The view from the back of Berkeley's main house

The plantation has quite a history, starting from 1619, and you can read about it here, but when you visit in person you can watch a film about it in the basement of the large estate. Behind the walls of the film projector, what was once an underground tunnel now sports a museum. I found it to be very interesting and informative. While you're waiting for the guided tour to begin, or after its ended, you can check out the Coach House and view some more exhibits, including info on their slaves, and other stuff including recommendations for restaurants. Fair warning...there are only two nearby.

A costumed tour guide was very knowledgeable and interesting when we toured the inside of the home, but for me, the real star of Berkeley are its grounds.

You are allowed access to various gardens, a grave yard, the first Thanksgiving Shrine, historical markings, and the shores of the James River.

It's quite beautiful, so tranquil. I felt like I was standing still in time with my feet embedded in the sand and eyes gazing across the river experiencing what the early settlers felt and saw. With no one around, the soft lapping of the tiny waves, and bright sunlight dancing diamonds in the river, one could easily transport themselves into another history past. Very spiritual in nature.

Anyway, here's some photos and you can see for yourself what I'm trying to convey...

I never realized the extent of retribution the signers of the Declaration of Independence underwent

This is where Taps was written by a Union soldier. There's a recording you can play. It made me weep.

We spent more time here than we did at Shirley so we missed lunch and realized it was too late to see any other plantations. I sorta felt after the two we saw that day, you've seen two, you've seen enough. So, we decided we would partake in an early dinner. We drove to Charles City and stopped at a converted farmhouse restaurant which was set in the middle of plantations and farms called Charles City Tavern. Although they wouldn't start serving dinner for another hour they took pity on us and allowed us to sit at the tiny bar. After a drink we moved into a screened porch area that overlooked the peaceful landscape. Every once in a while a car would drive down the road, but the birds singing drowned them out. The staff was friendly, the food was excellent -- tasted farm fresh, generous portions, and selections you'd be surprised to find in the middle of nowhere -- well worth the wait, and I highly recommend it..

I'll close this post with this...

Virginia is indeed quite beautiful, but I still want to be buried back in Brooklyn...

Trouble Don't Las' Always

I've really learned to listen to the little voice that sometimes whispers inside my head. This past Saturday, it screamed. Who would have ever thought I'd find so many links for my tale in Lynchburg? But there I was in the hilly city attending Paraquest. There were three events I wanted to attend, yet I didn't attend any of them. One speaker cancelled and a spontaneous distraction took up a couple of hours.

We registered on-site, attended three other sessions and then broke for lunch. Rather than eat the usual catered Holiday Inn cold-cut fare, we chose to explore Lynchburg's Main Street in search of a restaurant. A local advised us to walk a couple of blocks to the right. Except for some workers blocking part of the sidewalk, and the happy homeless, the streets were desolate. If there was a business, it was closed, but mostly there were empty storefronts.

I saw a sushi buffet for $5.99, but my fellow companions said they didn't eat bait. They probably did me a huge favor. Ahead was a bustling restaurant, Market At Main -- a warm, comfortable establishment that has a long counter with stools, booths, and tables. With such a huge and diversified menu it was hard to choose something. I went with their duo pick-two -- a trio of hummus with warm pita points and tuna salad on a bed of lettuce. It was only $5.99 and the portion was not a stripped down version. I will definitely go back if I find myself in Lynchburg again.

Lunch took a little longer than the hour. The next speaker would already be underway, and the following one we wanted to see wasn't showing up, so I asked if anyone wanted to come with me to check out the Legacy Museum. It's been on my research list for a couple of months now, and since we had already traveled to Lynchburg it would save me another trip. There's an exhibit going on now "Trouble Don't Las' Always." I was interested in seeing up close and personal remnants from African American Life in Central Virginia during and after the Civil War 1860-1890. Looking at pictures is one thing, reading words another, but seeing and handling three-dimensional artifacts is a whole other thing...a really good thing.

Although the museum is only 7 blocks away from the Holiday Inn, we were advised to take the car and not walk as I thought we would. There's a reason Lynchburg is called the hill city and those seven blocks were all uphill. We were the only car in the tiny parking lot of the small museum which is housed in a beautifully refurbished Victorian home. We rang and bell and was greeted with a smiling face and an "I was expecting you" after she asked if I had called earlier in the week. I had.

For me, what the museum lacked in size, was made up for in its exhibits. I read everything I saw and took plenty of pictures.
















I also picked up a list of additional recommended books. You know, I keep thinking, "I'm almost done" researching, but clearly, the universe has other plans, one of which was to direct us to visit the Old City Cemetery. We had seen it after parking and wondered if we could walk in there through this gate.

The museum worker told us to drive up the block and into the cemetery. As we drove to the visitor's center we were surprised at how large and pretty it was. I had never heard of this cemetery before I printed out a Google map of the route from the hotel to the museum. It's a very popular place. We joked there were more live people in here than down Main Street. We even saw a bridal party and guests in one location.

While we were there I discovered what I never imagined would be, but what I needed. I cannot elaborate as it's going to play an important part in my book. I wish we had had more time to explore Old City Cemetery, but we had to get back to the conference. Here are just a couple of shots.

I didn't see  as much as I would have liked, but what I did see was what I was meant to see, and I thank the little voice that nudged me there.

"Keep yo' eye on de sun
See how she run
Don't let her catch you
with your work undone
I'm a troubled,
I'm a troubled,
Trouble don't las'always."

Aint that the truth...

It's Not the Dead That Scares Me

East Hill Cemetery in Salem looks a lot different in the daytime than it does at night.



A couple of days ago a friend and I started our walk at Longwood Park in Salem, covered the perimeter of the small cemetery behind the Salem Museum and eventually found our way across the street to the larger portion of East Hill Cemetery. It was a nice stroll in the daylight that afforded us a better view of some of the interesting headstones. There were a couple of odd ones such as this one which looks like it was carved from a tree trunk but really is stone.



I counted three of them and noticed that all the buried persons were Woodmen of the World. What was odd about this monument is that even though it is carved from stone all three of the them had moss growing on them as if they were trees. I still found Board's resting place to be the most intriguing. If you look closely it almost looks like tears have stained the woman's, who I think is Mary, cheeks.



We hiked almost an hour and headed back to our cars across the street which we had parked near the Chamber of Commerce. That's when I got scared. It wasn't the dead that scared me, but the living. As we approached our vehicles some guy called out to us from where he was standing near his pick up truck. He asked us if he could walk around the cemetery. My friend said yes. As soon as I looked at this guy my New York went up. He had his arm in a sling, but I immediately had the feeling it was a fake sling. Images of Ted Bundy flashed through my mind. The passenger door of his truck was opened. He started to walk towards us.

He had grey hair tied back in a pony tail and front teeth missing. He started to ask us more questions like what is the name of the cemetery. As he stepped closer I was mentally telling my friend to get in her car and lock the doors. She was answering him but I was giving him the death stare. He said he was rehabbing and I thought he meant from drugs or alcohol but apparently he meant from an injury. He said his doctor said he shouldn't climb hills, so I was wondering why he would want to climb the hills of the cemetery. Then he came closer still and said he was waiting for a large disability check that should be coming any day. Did we look like the type that would say, "Hey, cool, let's go party!?" Now it was getting too weird so I jumped into my car and gave my friend the stare and she went into hers. I locked the doors and looked into my rearview mirror.

He headed back to his pickup and I noticed he put his good hand in the back of his waistband where one might keep a gun or a knife. I got the creeps. I pulled out quickly making sure my friend was on my tail and noticed that the redneck Bundy pulled out as well. Shit, I hoped he wouldn't follow us. Luckily for us cars got between my friend's car and his so we pulled into Mac and Bob's lot. I parked and waited for my friend to come. As I was standing there I noticed redneck Bundy came onto Main Street and made a left turn. I guess he didn't want to go for a walk after all. My friend and I made it safely into the restaurant where we spoke about the encounter. She felt he could have been a pedophile. I didn't think so as it was during the day and no kids were out. I felt he could have been a serial killer.

It was disturbing to realize that if he was and we had met him in the cemetery we would have been in trouble. It was deserted and no one except the dead would hear us scream. We both agreed that even if he had a gun neither one of us would have gotten into his pick-up as that's a death sentence for sure. The odd thing is both of us had mace sitting at home that we thought about taking for a minute but didn't. No more. I will now carry what the New York Police Department carries...



I'm not afraid to use it. Yup, it's not the dead that scares me, it's the living.

Orbs?

I really don't know if orbs that show up in photos have anything to do with the paranormal or not, but many "ghost hunters" think they do. I find them interesting especially when they're captured in an eerie location, under clear weather conditions. My daughter sat down and looked at the 83 photos I took recently during the Salem Ghost Tour at East Hill Cemetery. She's convinced at least 15 of them contain orbs. I've posted a couple. You can decide for yourself. I would recommend clicking on the photo to get a better view.

If you look in the middle of the square headstone you'll see something...



Look to the left of the moon...



I call this the Orb Fruit tree...



Here and there...



And everywhere...



I had turned around quickly and snapped that shot after hearing a noise so it's a little blurry. Now this big bright orb in the left hand corner is really clear. Too bad it's the moon...

The Salem Ghost Walk

It looks like the girl saw a ghost!



Under an almost-full moon she and I took part in the 13th Salem Ghost Walk held this past pleasant Saturday night.



Rather than getting spooked the event actually was an "historical pilgrimage through Salem's East Hill Cemeteries." It started inside the newly renovated Salem Museum where we first met two ghosts from the Salem Flying Artillery. The gentlemen ghosts who both served in the Civil War reminisced about their time in uniform. Naturally it was filled with the usual anti-Yankee sentiments, which Salemites have been known to still express.



The next ghost we met was India Bradpher, a member of Salem's African American community. India recounted her pride felt towards her neighbors and husband in the then segregated city.



Next up was the ghost of Geroge Terrill, a physician, major and military leader who recounts his family's anguish in the Civil War as one son fought for the Blue and the other for the Gray. Notice the orbs?



The ghost of Andrew Lewis, a very popular Salemite as evidenced by having a middle school and a Fort named after him, told his story. I was particularly amused at how much the Lewises sounded like deadbeats. His family first came over to the states because his father felt the rent they were paying was too high so he wouldn't pay it. When the landlord came over they got into an altercation and Lewis killed him. It was "self-defense" but they fled across the ocean anyway. Another tidbit about Andrew Lewis' character came out when his ghost told the story of how they needed a minister for their local church. So Lewis placed signs, I think in Williamsburg, asking for one. The minister uprooted his family and took over the church in Salem but left because Lewis never paid him. Like father, like son.



Colonel Broad, a prominent banker and civic leader told the story of how Salem lost the railroad to Big Lick, now Roanoke. Their smugness did Salem in, and a little bribe from Roanoke might have helped secure the tracks. Wasn't Salem positive they were getting the intermodal recently? Hmmmm, some things don't change even many years later.



Figures the banker would have such an elaborate grave marker...



The ghost of Clementine Chapman told the tale of how she and her husband lost the fabled Lake Spring Hotel, all due to a curse. The beggar must have been Sicilian.



All the re-enactors offered authentic performances and were quite entertaining. Unfortunately some of the children in the large group we were in became a little bored and began asking their parents, "Where are the ghosts?" and "Can we leave now?" Even my teen became a little tired hearing Salem's history lesson and had to rest her weary bones.



Once the tour broke up I wanted to go into the other East Hill Cemetery, the not so grand one behind the Salem Museum where the blacks are buried. As you can see there's quite a difference between where Andrew Lewis and Mr. Board rest than where Ms. Bradpher does.







It was very dark and the hill was too steep to climb so we didn't explore much of this cemetery. I want to go back in the daytime and check it out more thoroughly. Meanwhile I did have a digital voice recorder going the entire time to see if I picked up any stray EVP's. Once I download it and check it out I'll report back.

Now, two strange things did occur. The first happened when we were in the Salem Museum listening to the first tale. I felt the floor vibrate, almost like a rumble. I looked around and no one else seemed to have felt it, no one except my daughter. We both looked at each other and when we went outside I asked her what she had felt. Besides a "creepy feeling" she did feel the same vibration I did.

I also did take various shots as we were walking through the cemetery. I kept hearing "noises" close by behind us when we trailed the group. I would turn and no one would be there so I whipped out my camera and just took some shots. Indeed I discovered quite a few of them had orbs. Actually there are so many shots that I haven't included them in this post as they warrant a post of their own. If I ever find some "spare time" haha, I'd like to put together a small video of them. For now I'll pick out the "best of" and post them in the next day or so.

There's going to be one more tour held on Tuesday night (hope your weather will be as beautiful as ours was) which will have an additional ghost of a gravedigger. If you take any photos let me know if you pick up any orbs too. I thought the tour was enjoyable and it sparked my interest enough to visit the cemetery another time...in the daylight.