The Women's March on Montpelier

Just 2 days ago, Donald Trump was sworn in as the 45th President of the United States.  I don't know about you, but the words Trump and President, together, are like oil and water.  They simply don't mix..... and the world is telling him, just that.

To me, personally, there was not another image that was more powerful than seeing the photographs of women who pasted stickers stating "I Voted Today" on the grave of Susan B. Anthony.  This occurred on day of the election, when many of these woman presumably had voted for Hillary Clinton.  Yesterday's march felt RIGHT.  It was a feeling as if perhaps some small bit of justice has resonated light into a very black and bleak world....

Image credit - PBS

In that same venue, rallies and marches were held across the nation, to protest Trump's Presidency and the other many issues with which we challenge and disagree.   Millions of both men and women marched across all 50 states, and around the WORLD, resulting in a collective ROAR.  Mr. Trump, did you hear that?  That's the sound of a revolution!  But, I honestly don't think that Trump will even "get it"...he will twist our disapproval into something else like blaming our protests on a rigged media.... I digress....

Yesterday, I attended the Women's March on Montpelier (Vermont) alone, because I figured that I would have run into someone that I knew, and march with him/her. However, as I made my way through the sea of people, I did not find a single face that I knew! 

Above photos: Burlington Free Press and SevenDaysVT

The Burlington Free Press has estimated that about 15 - 20,000 people attended. I was overwhelmed with not only the crowd, but the amount of cars parked in and around Montpelier which proved that this event had a lot of meaning.  I had to walk the entire bike path in Montpelier, after taking the last parking spot near the railroad tracks/beginning of bike path, to get to the High School!  Here's my video from an incredibly powerful speaker....

I am so happy and honored to have been able to attend this important and awesome event. I hope our statement from our small state pings back to Washington D.C. "I have been driving down the interstate for years, and I have never seen traffic backed up like it is today." -Bernie Sanders

The sign I made and carried....

Edited

UNCLAIMED PROPERTY IN VERMONT

How cool is this?  Could it be raining money for you, too?

I have known about this site for some time, as I had gone here before.  Something told me I should check again..... I went online to this site and entered my maiden [last] name into the search box. The results were zilch.  Bummer... 

I tried again and entered a new search using my [previous] last married name and lo! and behold!  I was shocked to see my name and old address appear!  Yes, really and truly - that's me!  There was an assigned number to the left of my name, so I clicked on it to enter my information into an online form, to inquire about claiming what is rightfully mine!

I am fairly certain there is no great sum of money waiting, it is

more like an old bank account with a $20 balance.  Believe me, I would love to fantasize about having a great inheritance left to me, but I'm a realist.

Why not check it out?  Maybe you have an inheritance or an old bank account or un-cashed State tax check... the possibility does exist!  

From the Unclaimed Property Division: 

The primary function of the Unclaimed Property Division is to locate and return various forms of unclaimed financial property to the rightful owners.

You may search by last name or town. There are more than 280,000 claimable properties in the database. The total amount of unclaimed financial property is more than $64 million.

How to Contact the Unclaimed Property Office

This is kind of exciting, so I thought I would share the information and would love to hear if something happened for you, or perhaps you may find a friend, relative or neighbor on this list and make their day!

You can search for yourself by clicking here::  

In Person

The Unclaimed Property Office is located within the State Treasurer's Office, which is on the fourth floor of 109 State Street in beautiful downtown Montpelier, Vermont. We are open from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM, Monday through Friday. Map of 109 State Street


Mailing Address

Please address all mail to:

Unclaimed Property Office
Office of the State Treasurer
109 State Street
Montpelier, VT 05609-6200

Phone Numbers

Our office may be reached from 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM, Monday through Friday at:
(802) 828-2407
(800) 642-3191 (Vermont only)

TTY: (800) 253-0191

Update:  I sent my form in, online on the day of this post.  Today is 8/6/14 and I received a statement indicating that there was an old State pension check waiting for me in the amount of $614.45.  As I wrote on my Facebook page, this is an unexpected windfall that will go directly into my savings account!  Today, I discovered my husband's name on the website, and we've sent an online request to recover his money!   Sweet!

Black Agnes

THE LEGEND OF BLACK AGNES

MONTPELIER,  VERMONT:  

GREEN MOUNTAIN CEMETERY

This statue is one of Vermont's most desirable haunts, particularly at night.

The story of the curse of the statue that was told to me was: "If you lay in her arms at midnight, during a full moon, you will die within 7 days, and 7 of your friends will die, too."  

Another version is if you sit on her lap, you will have 3 strokes of bad luck.   

"One story claims that three teenagers sat on Black

 Agnes during   the full moon, trying to show how

 brave they were. They all drove home safely that

 night and thought they had escaped the curse. But

 within a week one was in a serious car accident,

 one fell and broke  his leg, and the third drowned

 when his canoe capsized in the  Winooski River.

 Just coincidence or the malevolent power of 

 Black Agnes? " -newenglandfolklore.com

John Hubbard bronze statue (shown wrapped in a shroud) was commissioned by Austrian sculpture Karl Bitter in 1899

For anyone believing that this beautiful statue is a statue of "Black Agnes" may want to read the actual memorial of the person that is actually buried here.  And if you are silly enough to believe that you are laying in the arms of a woman....you may want to actually look at the statue itself.  Your first hint might be that this individual is not a she (has no visible breasts), your second hint is that he is not black.

"Black Agnes" - to which this statue is commonly referred, is actually John Hubbard.   John Hubbard lived a relatively short life (1847 - 1899), leaving this world at the young age of just 52.  During his life, however, one of his Aunts died, leaving him a rather large sum of money that was intended to be used for the public good - one of which was the Kellogg-Hubbard Public Library.  Here is the skinny on that story, from kellogghubbard.org:

"The saga of the Kellogg-Hubbard Library began in 1889, when Martin M. Kellogg, a New York City real estate magnate born in Barre, died of a heart attack, followed three months later by his widow, the former Fanny M. Hubbard, a Montpelier native. The couple had agreed their $300,000 estate should be given to the city of Montpelier to construct ornate entrance gates for the Green Mount Cemetery and to build a public library.


But Fanny's nephew, John E. Hubbard, contested her will. After signatories to Fanny's will testified at a probate court hearing that they hadn't realized they were signing a will, the judge ruled in Hubbard's favor and declared the will void. Town fathers filed a counter suit, and after three years of dispute — with local residents taking sides — John Hubbard agreed to build a library."

But what of "Black Agnes" a.ka. "Black Aggie" a.k.a. 'Black Annis"?  From where did this curse and urban legend come?  

Well, you might as well jump on the band-wagon, because there are many trumpeters here to join you.  Researching this has been very informative and interesting.  It always amazes me how stories are started, and how they evolve into urban legend.



In Maryland:

Original statue before it was removed and replaced with a bronze statue

"Black Aggie is the folkloric name given to a statue formerly placed on the grave of General Felix Agnus in Druid Ridge Cemetery in Pikesville, Maryland. It is an unauthorized replica, rendered by Edward L. A. Pausch, of Augustus St. Gaudens' allegorical figure, popularly called Grief, at the Adams Memorial in Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington, D.C. The statue shown above is of a seated figure in a cowl or shroud. 

Beginning with its installation in 1926, the statue was surrounded by many urban legends, principally that someone spending a night in its lap would be haunted by the ghosts of those buried there; that the spirits of individuals buried at Druid Ridge would annually convene at the statue; that no grass would grow on the ground where the statue's shadow would lay during the daytime; or that the statue would animate itself during the night, whether by physically moving or by showing glowing red eyes.

These urban legends led to much unwelcome attention toward the statue; many people were caught breaking into the cemetery at night to visit it, and the pedestal was frequently vandalized. The Agnus family, disturbed by the attention the statue received, donated it to the Smithsonian in 1967. It sat for many years in storage at the National Museum of American Art (later named the Smithsonian American Art Museum) where an authorized recasting of the original Adams Memorial statue now sits.

"Black Aggie", today in bronze

 Black Aggie was moved from her previous home at the museum to a courtyard behind the Dolley Madison House on Lafayette Square[disambiguation needed] in Washington, D.C. where she currently stands. The bare, blank pedestal remains at the statue's former home at Druid Ridge Cemetery." -wiki

In West Virginia:

"Black Agnes is a statue located in a cemetery in West Virginia, she is a very famous statue of a seated lady, with her hands outstretched. Is believed to be in the memory of Felix Agnus (1839-1925), a General from the Civil War.

Another version of the legend behind this statue (and most popular) says that in this grave, lies a woman who died from a broken heart, but let me tell you why is this statue famous: One of the legends says that at midnight, if you dare to look at her eyes, they will burn bright red and then they will turn you blind, or even kill you with her gaze, but there is another legend.

A teenager girl it's in a slumber party with her girlfriends playing truth or dare, when one of her friends dare her to go to the cemetery and sit on Black Agnes' lap. The young girl accepts the challenge and makes her way to the cemetery.  After some hours, she never made it back to the party, all of the girls thought she got afraid and just went to her home, and all of them decided to call it a night and went to sleep.

The next morning all of the girls had to walk in front of the graveyard to go to school and noticed that one of the shoes of their friend outside and decided to see what happened. When they got to the statue, they screamed in horror when they saw their friend dead, laying on the arms of the statue.

There are various versions of this legend as I said before, sometimes is a girl that has to sit on the statue's lap as a sorority initiation dare, other version says that the girl is a descendant from the woman's fiance, and she finally had her revenge.


Also in some versions of the legend says that on the body of the dead girl, were found marks that looks if she was held by a superhuman clutch. But the legend of the killer statue its not only based on Black Agnes. There are various statues around the world that share the same legend, all of them having as an end, that the girl is found dead on the arms of the statue." -read-legends-and-myths.com

In England: 

"Black Annis, also known as Black Agnes, is a bogeyman figure in English folklore. She is imagined as a blue-faced crone or witch with iron claws and a taste for humans (especially children).  She is said to haunt the countryside of Leicestershire, living in a cave in the Dane Hills, with an oak tree at its entrance.

She supposedly goes out onto the glens at night looking for unsuspecting children and lambs to eat, then tanning their skins by hanging them on a tree, before wearing them around her waist.  

She would reach inside houses to snatch people. Legend has it that she used her iron claws to dig into the side of a sandstone cliff, making herself a home there which is known as Black Annis's Bower. The legend led to parents warning their children that Black Annis would catch them if they did not behave." 

The earliest written account of ‘The Old Hag’ which comes from a poem written in 1797 by John Heyrick, a lieutenant in the 15th Regiment of Light Dragoons (which later became 15th/19th King’s Royal Hussors). In the History of Leicester, Heyrick recalled this poem, and insisting it to be a true story.  It is understood that his honorable character meant that he could be quite trusted.  These six lines of Heyrick’s poem were the foundation to every tale and every description of Black Annis written since:

"Tis said the soul of mortal man recoil’d,

To view Black Annis’ eye, so fierce and wild;

Vast talons, foul with human flesh, there grew

 In place of hands, and features livid blue

 Glar’d in her visage; while the obscene waist

 Warm skins of human victims close embraced.

 Where down the plain the winding pathway falls,

From Glenfield Vill to Lester’s ancient walls,

Nature or Art with imitative power,

Far in the glenn has placed *Black Annis’ Bower.

An oak, the pride of all the mossy dell,

Spread its broad arms above the stony cell;

And many a bush, with hostile thorns arrayed,

Forbids the secret cavern to invade;

Whilst delving vales each way meander round,

And violet banks with redolence abound."

*Black Annis, also known as Black Agnes, is an evil witch-crone figure from English folklore.  Supposedly, she possesses a blue-face of a crone or witch and has iron claws with an appetite for humans - and especially likes children.   She is said to haunt the countryside of Leicestershire, England and lives in a cave in the Dane Hills.  Legend states that there is an oak tree at the entrance of the cave. 

In England, and earlier still....

There was a woman by the name of Agnes Scott, who in the "The Description of Leicestershire” is described as ‘Black Agnes.’ Agnes was a real person, in fact, she was a Dominican Nun, "is surmised to have lived in a cave near the Dane Hills and from there ran a leper colony."  She died in 1455 and was buried at Swithland church. An engraved brass plate memorializes her at the church, engraved in Latin translates:

The Swithland Church

"Enclosed in this tomb lies Agnes Scott, called the devout mother of Lady Ferrers. Whoever thou shall pass by pour out prayers, I beg. I am what thou shalt be. I used to be what thou art. Pray for me, I pray."



Scotland:  1337

"Agnes, Countess of Dunbar, was the daughter of Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray, a close ally of Robert the Bruce. In 1337, while her husband was fighting in the north, ‘Black Agnes’ defended her home, Dunbar Castle, against an English siege.

Dunbar Castle

Black Agnes was named for her olive skin and black hair. She was outraged when the Earl of Salisbury besieged her home and she refused to surrender.

For months Agnes and a few servants and men held out against the English forces. The English earl brought mighty siege engines to batter the castle walls. Agnes and her ladies walked the battlements and dusted the walls where they had been hit with their white handkerchiefs.

Agnes stood on the walls of the castle and berated the English forces.

When the Earl of Salisbury brought a battering ram called ‘a sow’ to the castle, Agnes had a massive boulder - that the attackers had fired at the walls - dropped on the war machine, destroying it.

The English held Agnes’ brother John Randolph, Earl of Moray, captive. They put a rope about his neck and threatened to hang him. Agnes called their bluff telling them to go ahead as she would fall heir to the Earldom of Moray. The English relented and Randolph survived.

Eventually the English earl gave up and abandoned the siege. Black Agnes became a folk hero. A ballad, put words into the mouth of the Earl of Salisbury:"

"She kept a stir in tower and trench, 

That brawling, boisterous Scottish wench, 

Came I early, came I late, 

I found Agnes at the gate."

“God be with you till we meet again” ~ 1918

"Oh, say can you see?” their hopeless voices were asking next, the hammer strokes of metal tongues drowning them out.  “The war is over,” said Miss Tanner, her underlip held firmly, her eyes blurred. Miranda said, “Please open the window, please, I smell death in here.”  ~ -Katherine Anne Porter, Pale Horse, Pale Ride

A disease that struck with frightening speed

In 1918-19, the world saw the most catastrophic pandemic in modern history. More people died from the H1N1 strain that circulated at the time - Spanish Flu as it became known- than from fighting in World War I. 

In the annals of modern medicine, the Spanish Flu of 1918-1919 is the standard of virulence against which all other infectious diseases are measured. Historians have long agreed that at least 20 to 40 million people died in a pandemic that reached from the ice floes of Alaska to the jungle villages of Gambia. But because of spotty record-keeping and no definitive diagnostic test at that time, this estimate may be too low. Epidemiologists today look back at a far larger toll—at least fifty million deaths and perhaps up to 100 million. 

The influenza struck with frightening speed. Some people woke up in the morning feeling well, became sick in the early afternoon, and died at night. Those who fought off the disease’s initial attack frequently faced a secondary onslaught of bacterial pneumonia lasting a few days. For many it was a matter of dying sooner or later.

One-fifth of the world’s population (about two billion at the time) came down with the disease. In the United States, the infection rate was higher—28 percent—resulting in 675,000 deaths, which depressed the average life expectancy by 10 years.

The toll of death worldwide surpassed combat fatalities from all wars of the 20th century.  -harvard.edu 1918.  Reports of the flu originally came from Fort Devens, Massachusetts where troops were assembling to transfer to Europe to fight in World War I.  People traveling by train came into depots where populations were dense, spreading the virus like wildfire through out the state.  Outbreaks were occured in White River Junction, St. Johnsbury, Rutland and St. Albans.  Barre and Montpelier were the hardest hit in the state.   Late summer and into the fall, Vermont was devastated by the "Spanish Influenza" pandemic flu.  The disease attacked the lungs, caused high fever, boils and pimples, delirium, horrible pain in the back, arms and legs, and nausea.  Those who fought the disease’s first attack often faced a secondary onslaught of bacterial pneumonia lasting a few days; which essentially meant that it was a matter of dying sooner or later. "On September 27th, 1918, the Public Health Service noted that “indefinite reports of influenza at many places have been reported.” During the final week of September, there were over 6,000 cases in the state. By October 4th, influenza could be found throughout the state.  The largest outbreaks were at Middlebury, St. Johnsbury, Lydonville, St. Albans, Montpelier, Barre, Randolph and Northfield. Because officials were quickly overwhelmed by the disease, most reports regarding influenza cases and deaths were probably inaccurate. However, it does seem that the disease probably peaked in Vermont during the week of October 12th."   -http://www.flu.gov/pandemic/history/1918/your_state/northeast/vermont/ The flu usually ran its course in about 3 weeks time, but could easily be fatal in 3 days or quicker.  The medical community was ill prepared for the epidemic and did not have antibiotics and/or antiviral medications for treatment.  The most they could do was to treat symptoms of the flu, and try to make those afflicted as comfortable as possible.  For those who met their sudden demise, their death was recorded.  Excerpt from “The Great Influenza: The Story of the Deadliest Pandemic in History,” by John Barry, Penguin Books, 2004: "So people watched the virus approach, and feared, feeling as important as it moved toward them as if it were an inexorable oncoming cloud of poison gas. It was a thousand miles away, five hundred miles away, fifty miles away, twenty miles away…  Wherever one was in the country, it crept closer—it was in the next town, the next neighborhood, the next block, the next room. In Tucson the Arizona Daily Star warned readers not to catch “Spanish hysteria!” “Don’t worry!” was the official and final piece of advice on how to avoid the disease from the Arizona Board of Health.  “Don’t get scared!” said the newspapers everywhere. Don’t get scared! they said in Denver, in Seattle, in Detroit; in Burlington, Vermont, and Burlington, Iowa, and Burlington, North Carolina; in Greenville, Rhode Island and Greenville, Mississippi. And every time the newspapers said, Don’t get scared! they frightened."   - John Barry "The influenza pandemic of 1918-1919 killed more people than the Great War, known today as World War I (WWI), at somewhere between 20 and 40 million people. It has been cited as the most devastating epidemic in recorded world history. More people died of influenza in a single year than in four-years of the Black Death Bubonic Plague from 1347 to 1351. Known as "Spanish Flu" or "La Grippe" the influenza of 1918-1919 was a global disaster.  The pandemic affected everyone. With one-quarter of the US and one-fifth of the world infected with the influenza, it was impossible to escape from the illness. Even President Woodrow Wilson suffered from the flu in early 1919 while negotiating the crucial treaty of Versailles to end the World War (Tice).  Those who were lucky enough to avoid infection had to deal with the public health ordinances to restrain the spread of the disease. The public health departments distributed gauze masks to be worn in public. Stores could not hold sales, funerals were limited to 15 minutes. Some towns required a signed certificate to enter and railroads would not accept passengers without them.  Those who ignored the flu ordinances had to pay steep fines enforced by extra officers (Deseret News). Bodies pilled up as the massive deaths of the epidemic ensued. Besides the lack of health care workers and medical supplies, there was a shortage of coffins, morticians and gravediggers (Knox).  The conditions in 1918 were not so far removed from the Black Death in the era of the bubonic plague of the Middle Ages." -http://virus.stanford.edu/uda/ 1665 Bubonic Plague: "Ring around the rosies, A pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, We all fall down!" "That Flu Stuff” The following poem appeared in the December 14, 1918 issue of The Literary Digest: That Flu Stuff If you have a tummy-ache,  It’s the Flu! If you’re weary when you wake,  It’s the Flu! Is your memory off the track?  Is your liver out of whack? Are there pimples on your back? It’s the Flu! Are there spots before your eyes? It’s the Flu! Are you fatter than some guys? It’s the Flu! Do your teeth hurt when you bite? Do you ever have a fright? Do you want to sleep at night? It’s the Flu! Are you thirsty when you eat? It’s the Flu! Are you shaky on your feet? It’s the Flu! If you feel a little ill, Send right off for Dr. Pill, He will say, despite his skill, “It’s the Flu!” He won’t wait to diagnose, It’s the Flu! Hasn’t time to change his clothes, It’s the Flu! For two weeks he’s had no rest, Has no time to make a test, So he’ll class you with the rest— It’s the Flu! - Cincinnati Enquirer The Literary Digest (14 December 1918) Following is a account of the flu, in the form of a letter written in 1918 from Fort Deven, Massachusetts.  The physician explains to a friend the flu's symptoms and its gruesome reality:  A Letter From Camp Devins, MA A doctor stationed at Camp Devens, a military base just west of Boston, writes to a friend and fellow physician, of the conditions to be found there as influenza was making its presence felt. Camp Devens, Mass. Surgical Ward No. 16 29 September 1918 My dear Burt, It is more than likely that you would be interested in the news of this place, for there is a possibility that you will be assigned here for duty, so having a minute between rounds I will try to tell you a little about the situation here as I have seen it in the last week. As you know, I have not seen much pneumonia in the last few years in Detroit, so when I came here I was somewhat behind in the niceties of the Army way of intricate diagnosis. Also to make it good, I have had for the last week an exacerbation of my old “Ear Rot” as Artie Ogle calls it, and could not use a stethoscope at all, but had to get by on my ability to “spot” 'em thru my general knowledge of pneumonias… Camp Devens is near Boston, and has about 50,000 men, or did have before this epidemic broke loose. It also has the base hospital for the Division of the Northeast. This epidemic started about four weeks ago, and has developed so rapidly that the camp is demoralized and all ordinary work is held up till it has passed. All assemblages of soldiers taboo. These men start with what appears to be an attack of la grippe or influenza, and when brought to the hospital they very rapidly develop the most viscous type of pneumonia that has ever been seen. Two hours after admission they have the mahogany spots over the cheek bones, and a few hours later you can begin to see the cyanosis extending from their ears and spreading all over the face, until it is hard to distinguish the coloured men from the white. It is only a matter of a few hours then until death comes, and it is simply a struggle for air until they suffocate. It is horrible. One can stand it to see one, two or twenty men die, but to see these poor devils dropping like flies sort of gets on your nerves. We have been averaging about 100 deaths per day, and still keeping it up. There is no doubt in my mind that there is a new mixed infection here, but what I don’t know. My total time is taken up hunting rales, rales dry or moist, sibilant or crepitant or any other of the hundred things that one may find in the chest, they all mean but one thing here — pneumonia — and that means in about all cases death. The normal number of doctors here is about 25 and that has been increased to over 250, all of whom (of course excepting me) have temporary orders — “Return to your proper station on completion of work” — Mine says, “Permanent Duty,” but I have been in the Army just long enough to learn that it doesn’t always mean what it says. So I don’t know what will happen to me at the end of this. We have lost an outrageous number of nurses and doctors, and the little town of Ayer is a sight. It takes special trains to carry away the dead. For several days there were no coffins and the bodies piled up something fierce, we used to go down to the morgue (which is just back of my ward) and look at the boys laid out in long rows. It beats any sight they ever had in France after a battle. An extra long barracks has been vacated for the use of the morgue, and it would make any man sit up and take notice to walk down the long lines of dead soldiers all dressed up and laid out in double rows. We have no relief here; you get up in the morning at 5:30 and work steady till about 9:30 p.m., sleep, then go at it again. Some of the men of course have been here all the time, and they are tired. If this letter seems somewhat disconnected overlook it, for I have been called away from it a dozen times, the last time just now by the Officer of the Day, who came in to tell me that they have not as yet found at any of the autopsies any case beyond the red hepatitis stage. It kills them before it gets that far. I don’t wish you any hard luck Old Man, but do wish you were here for a while at least. It’s more comfortable when one has a friend about. The men here are all good fellows, but I get so damned sick o’ pneumonia that when I eat I want to find some fellow who will not “talk shop” but there ain’t none, no how. We eat it, sleep it, and dream it, to say nothing of breathing it 16 hours a day. I would be very grateful indeed it you would drop me a line or two once in a while, and I will promise you that if you ever get into a fix like this, I will do the same for you. Each man here gets a ward with about 150 beds (mine has 168), and has an Asst. Chief to boss him, and you can imagine what the paper work alone is — fierce — and the Government demands all paper work be kept up in good shape. I have only four day nurses and five night nurses (female) a ward-master, and four orderlies. So you can see that we are busy. I write this in piecemeal fashion. It may be a long time before I can get another letter to you, but will try. Good-by old Pal, “God be with you till we meet again” Keep the Bouells open, Roy