The springs of Saratoga still exist, pouring out their healing waters at a consistent 59 degrees Fahrenheit. (Is any one else but me annoyed by the peculiarity that the USA as the only country in the world not using the Metric and Celsius systems?) Now 59 degrees may be refreshing on a hot summer day but it's a bit chilly for the first weekend in December. The solution is hot water. The town and the turn-of-the-century mansions of the elite lining Broadway are all decked out in their Christmas finery. It is a wonder to behold. Eye candy.
It's not until entering the Saratoga Springs Park does the magnitude of the draw of the springs become apparent. My eyes are drawn to an empty, in the process of being refurbished building as the car enters the park. The faded beauty of the building on my right, is sensational, majestic, and inspiring. It's known as the Lincoln Spa. We know that both the President and Mrs. Mary Todd Lincoln both suffered with Depression and migraine headaches.
A curving paved roadway takes us over what once must have been a carriage road, through woods of pine. In the heart of the park is the exclusive Gideon Putnam Inn. Just beyond is our destination, the Roosevelt Spa. You just have to love being a Yankee, to understand it's our culture that binds us together. It has nothing to do with state boundaries. All these Yankee names amuse me.
Saratoga Springs Spa is festooned with flags celebrating 100 years of the infrastructure that was developed around healing/bathing spas. Healing for all kinds illnesses were prescribed and improvements were attributed to the waters. Here the prosperous had established a therapeutic retreat for the mind, the body and the spirit.
"Ahh, here are those industrious Putnams again, from the Putnam family", I muse, as I catch a glimpse of the original red brick mansion. "Each and every one of them can trace their ancestry back to my hometown of Danvers (a.k.a. Salem Village)".
Their legacy of contribution to society endures. From the hilltop where I live, directly below, is the General Israel Putnam House. The antique saltbox is now owned by the Danvers Historical Society. Undoubtedly, a Putnam once owned this hill, too. It has a 360 degree view of the surrounding area. On a clear day, you can see all the way to Boston. Living history.
Today euphemistically, it's known as Hathorne Hill. It's the site of an luxury apartment complex built upon the foot print of a state public mental institution, known in its last metamorphosis, as Danvers State Hospital. (a.k.a."the Nut House"). It, too, was set amid a wonderfully landscaped and cultivated park in an agrarian small town. Constructed at the close of the 19th century, the distinctive red brick Gothic architecture is centered on the top of the hill. It's architecture is straight out of novel.The original building, the Kirkbride, sits like an imposing fortress that shouts "Look at me!" Driving north along US-1 and I-95, its commanding presence still dominates an other-wise undeveloped hill.
This is where I live today. Ironic, I know, on so many different levels. One of my nieces thinks it's cool to have an aunt living at a world famous insane asylum. I love the perspective of the next generation. They are wise and compassionate souls.
Dr. Kirkbride was one of the founders of a new approach to treating those social-medical conditions that ended, disrupted, and wrecked havoc on the lives of those afflicted by this elusive, secretive disease. What little that was known 100 years ago about diseases of the mind included the healing aspects of mineral springs, being in and surrounded by nature, and that certain diseases just ran in the blood. There was no cure, of course. There still isn't.
I went to Saratoga to experience bathing in the mineral springs for myself. It's called hydrotherapy and I simply feel rejuvenated.
Alleluia! Thank you, Mother! Thank you, Father!
Thank you, Doctor!
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