This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by sheets. They're soft and smooth. They're fitted and flat. They don't care whether you're skinny or fat. You can get all wrapped up in them. Sheets.
And now on with A View of the Town, Episode 11 -- Amelia Basswood
Maine is cold during the winter months. That goes without saying if you know your geography well. Being one of the northern states. And because of it, people get what they call cabin fever. Sitting inside near the wood stove, trying to keep warm, bundled up so much they dare not un-bundle. But despite that, they do un-bundled long enough that come the following September, a fresh new batch of babies start arriving. But by March's teasing of spring, the fever is strong enough to drive a man to pray for mercy. That bodily aching to get out, to air out the house, and get ready for spring.
On Friday morning, I decided it was time for a good trim and shave. Would have been March 13th. I remember it well since that was the same day as my Mama's birthday. I scurried my way over to Chinbleeds' Barber Shop just down the street from my office. I arrived to find myself in a heated discussion between some of the fellas.
"I saw it with my own eyes," said Rufus Slade, the owner of the Hillside Inn where they claim you can get the best chowder in town.
"Aw blazes, ya did not," said Hank Hawkins, local postmaster. "You've been taking a snoot full again, haven't ya?"
Rufus Slade was not one to lie. In fact, he was so honest that people often wanted to pop him one in eye. "By gum, I saw her. Standing right side along the road. Still in her wedding dress just like that night. Only this time she was living. At least she looked living."
Cliff Chinbleed stopped trimming Wilb Bush's beard and pointed his scissors at Slade. "You know darn well she's buried out there in Basswood Cemetery. Right there next to her husband."
It was true. Amelia Basswood was buried in Basswood Cemetery, right next to her husband, Theodore. Both died the same day. One day after their wedding.
The newly-wed Basswoods were on their way out of town, heading south for their honeymoon. It was one of the coldest days in February. The roads snow covered. They had decided to travel down to Boston to visit a cousin and catch the train there to Florida. They never made it. About three miles outside of town, their auto fit a patch of ice, slide off the road, and slammed into a tree. Theo died on the spot. Amelia managed to climb up to the road, but no one was coming. She was found along side the road in some overgrowth, still wearing her white wedding dress. Since the dress was white, she looked like part of the snow.
That was in 1911. And ever since then, the ghost of Amelia has been spotted standing along side the road.
"She was too standing there," said Slade. "I saw her. Still in her wedding dress."
"It's true. I saw her too." It was Buster Hast, Amelia's brother. "She's there. Still waiting for someone to come along and save her and her Theo." Hast had been sitting in the back corner of the shop listening in. He hardly ever spoke.
Everyone stopped and looked at him. He slowly got up and walked past everyone, eyeing all of us. He left the barber shop.
Four days later, we all attended Buster Hast's funeral. The gossip mill was hot on this one. Apparently, later that day after that conversation in the barber shop, Buster had gone out to the spot where his sister had been seen. It was Widow Fell that found him the next day, while driving Taber into town. (That's the name of her wagon.) Unfortunately, she didn't realize it was him until afterward. She thought he was just a speed bump in the road. He was covered in mud and of course wearing old brown clothes didn't help. Some folks couldn't help but believe that Amelia was there and he was trying to help. That Hast family was always cursed. I'll tell you all about them some other time.
Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and it residents.
This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by sheets. Flannel or cotton. Everybody says that they don't care, but they secretly want to know what goes on between 'em. And definitely most everybody lies about that. Sheets.
CSM
