Ouija board.
I’m nervous just telling the story because I have to type the words. Ouija board. What if I’m opening the gates of Hell? What if, at the very least, the peculiar aches and pains I’ve had for the past two months are due to the fact I messed with a Ouija board?
I know I sound ridiculous. Many people have reacted to my story by doing the “did I hear you right, and you’re not kidding, are you” reaction to my angst, then changing the subject. But at least my local animal shelter benefitted from my brief encounter with the demonic world.
This summer, Al purchased a camp. It’s a mobile home in a park on the river. An older couple who were retired had decided, after 20 years of making two trips a year between their summer and winter homes, they were ready to stay put in the south. Our new getaway was their home for six months of the year for two decades, so it was a complete household and welcoming home. The view of the river is so amazing, I’d be happy if Al had bought a port-a-potty with a lawn chair.
As is often the case of such purchases, the sale included all contents: furniture, kitchen items, linens, lawn-care equipment, even cleaning supplies and random toiletries. There also are odds and ends that amount to what you would take to the Salvation Army but leave behind, thinking maybe the new people will find treasure in your trash.
Two boxes of “treasure” sat in a corner of one of the bedrooms. I came upon my visiting daughter rifling through the boxes. I sat down to supervise, somewhat curious but pretty confident it was all junk. Then, there they were, two old Ouija boards. We pulled the sets out of the pile. Not only were they old, they were vintage. In their original boxes, one was marked with the year, 1964. One box was plain, but the other had a wonderful design. To depart from my writer-y writing of this entry, it was just really cool!
But the coolness was not my first thought. My first thought, and surprisingly my daughter’s, was to get the Ouija boards out of the house! This was evil! We had a gateway to EVIL in our house! In a hurry, we scooped up the boards, scurried out to my car, and tossed them in the trunk. Holy cats, now they’re in my car! My daughter and I agreed – we had to get rid of them, and out of our universe, at once!
Now, it’s worth mentioning – for me, anyway – that my daughter’s reaction surprised me; that she agreed the Ouija board brings evil and does not belong in a home – or car. Years ago, she had eased me into finding out she does not believe in God by having discussions about her more aboriginal spiritual belief system. Which I blame on my reading her “Freddie the Leaf” when she was a child. But that’s another story.
It’s also worth mentioning that this was not my first encounter with a Ouija board. When I was no more than eleven or twelve years old, I received one as a – of all holidays – Christmas gift! My mother had decided a Ouija board would be an appropriate gift to celebrate the birth of the Christian messiah. (Incidentally, the other game set that came into the house that Christmas was called “Green Ghost” by a game company called Transogram.)
My daughter was on an extended visit with me this summer, to take road trips around upstate New York and visit at least some of her favorite childhood destinations. In the meantime, we were riding around with two creepy Ouija boards in the trunk. There just wasn’t an obvious opportunity to unload these instruments of deviousness on our treks to Niagara Falls, etcetera.
Finally, on a trip up north-bound highways to Old Forge, our favorite quaint, albeit tourist, town in the Adirondack Mountains, we had our Eureka moment! Surely, we would pass antiques shops along these country highways, and certainly we could sell the Ouija boards at one of these establishments!
And there it was! An antiques shop! Behind us. (I would like to say that, although we whizzed by much too fast to pull in, I do observe the speed limit much of the time.) But then, another shop, with two spinster-looking ladies sitting outside on the step, each matching the other with chin resting on hands, elbows resting on knees, appeared. Might these ladies be interested in purchasing two fine, vintage Ouija boards in original boxes? Oh, nnnooo, they answer. Those things creep me out, they say.
There was one more shop, right in town. The proprietor was interested, but she wanted to do some research online first. She had sold one in the past, she said. But it’s something that not everyone is looking for, she said. And she couldn’t afford to pay much, she said. Not knowing if she’d get anyone to buy it, she said. In the end, we sold the Ouija boards to the shop in Old Forge – on our way out, after a lovely day, I might add. And, I really love Old Forge, so I hope I didn’t bring them doom.
But there was one more worry. The “dirty money”.
I told Al, the rightful owner of the Ouija boards, about the ordeal. He said, go ahead and keep the money. Oh, no we can’t KEEP the money – it’s like transacting with the horned one himself! Julie and I decided we need to give the money “for good”. How about a church, Al suggested. Oh, no, not a church! How about one you don’t belong to, he persisted, how about Donald Trump’s church, he chortled at his own humor. I would not give THIS money to any church, I insisted, not even Donald Trump’s church!
We did find a home for the money we all could feel good about. After riding around with it in the console of my car for a month, I finally had a check cut and brought it over to a group of individuals that even the devil wouldn’t be mean to, our local animal shelter.
And that’s one tale – or tail – I don’t mind ending.
