A McGee on St. Patricks Day

My McGee relatives all live in Alabama.  They say they are southerners and that’s the end of it, but one distant cousin recently worked on a family tree.  A (great, great bunch of greats) grandmother “knew things” so she is my psychic relative.  The family tree didn’t go far back enough to include other countries, but the name McGee screams Irish.  Today I will wear the green.

St. Patricks Day fits me.  It’s full of leprechauns, which are magical fairies in Irish mythology.  Like me, a leprechaun is a solitary creature.  It can be called a sprite, which is defined as a ghost or a fairy.  I can relate to ghosts.  I see them when I work on murder cases and I sometimes see them in houses and forests.  A fairy feels spooky to me, especially the one in the movie Peter Pan. 

Green beer and Irish whiskey and anything gluten now give me hives, but I haven’t aged out of sprite behavior, so frivolity is in order.  And guess what?  You don’t have to be Irish to enjoy a day of fun. 

When I'm 64

Send me a postcard, drop me a line, stating point of view…..Indicate precisely what you mean to say….Yours sincerely, wasting away…..Lennon, McCartney, James

My happy birthday is on Saturday and I will be gloriously 64.  On Valentine’s weekend I started my celebration with an overnight trip to Williamsport, PA.  Back in the lumber days, Williamsport bustled and mansions proliferated.  It’s no longer a happening place, but people are friendly and the restaurants excellent.  At 7 degrees, it was too cold to care about anything BUT food. 

If you ever hit that lovely little city, visit their Historical Society.  Spirits inhabit old dresses, work with farm and industrial tools and drive the Model T.  The extensive model train collection beats all.  I stayed at the Genetti Hotel, followed a trail of old photos along its halls and told free fortunes for anyone who crossed my path and wanted one.  I listened to points of view and tried to figure out what they meant to say.  I wasted away and enjoyed every minute of it. 

I look forward to the last third of my life.  Small adventures make big fun.  And sometimes they even beat out good old songs.

Winter Introspection

My least favorite day of the year is December 31.  I prefer to look at the present and the future rather than the past.  Thinking about my mistakes for more than a few minutes…as the song goes…don’t bring me down down down down.

2015.  An odd numbered year, so I will hope for offbeat occurrences.  But now it’s winter and dark, a time to be introspective.  A time to think about what I want and need.  I will give a toss to the unpleasant and ditch those bold blue pants I bought and wore twice.  I will think about my 64^th birthday and pay attention to the opportunities that are open to me as an old gal.  I will try not to be frustrated by what I used to be able to do.  I will enjoy each day, when young women open doors for me with a smile.  Now, children like me more because I look like their grandmas.  Groovy old men don’t leer, they just move close to talk and smile.  My neighbors help me with the snow and the yard because I am the older lady next door. 

I vow to adore the young people who help me read the fine print in the pharmacy, who help me decide on a new sweater because I am color challenged.  I cherish the babies whose own children will take my place when I die.  And oh, I hope to live to 102 and not a minute more.

This year already started differently since I did not make a New Year’s resolution.  Instead, I planned my new year’s dreams.  Good health comes first, the rest, I hope, is gravy. 

Halloween Letdown

It is All Souls Day today, which means I have to wait 364 days until I get to wear a slightly stupid, homemade costume and be someone I am not.  This year for Halloween I was Carmen Miranda, a singer and dancer from the 1030’s.  You might remember her as the Chiquita banana girl.  Fake grapes and a real banana adorned my hair.  With my grandmother’s mink stole around my shoulders, I sang Chica Chica Boom Chica to my piano and voice students.  And I laughed.  And they laughed.  The only people who recognized me were all over 60.  Same with my Elvis costume a few years back.  I like to live in the past on Halloween.

 

Last weekend I read tarot at a party and an 11 year old voice student of mine asked to have her palm read.  After we finished, she expressed the typical preteen embarrassment that comes with having a dad. 

 

“He’s old,” she said.  “He likes old movies and old songs.” 

 

“That’s not old.  That’s called a throwback,” I told her. 

 

When she saw me in my costume on Thursday and I explained who I was, she hollered, “A throwback!”

 

Time travelling isn’t just for psychics.  You can do it at Christmas or any time of the year.  Grab a memory, play some old songs and throw yourself back. 

The Mouth of Babe

For over 30 years I have taught voice and piano lessons to children as young as 3 and adults older than I am.  I learn some of my most valuable lessons from the kids.  Last week 4 year old Erin asked me, “Why are you so LOUD?” 

“My family is loud and music is loud so that’s it,” I told her and tried not to laugh. 

We played the CDE Song and sang Six Little Ducks.  “What is your JOB?” she asked me as I banged away at the keys and threw my tired old arm behind me as we sang, “but the one little duck with the feather in his back…”

“Oh this is my job,” I told her puzzled face.

My two jobs, music teacher and psychic educator are similar.  I try to make people happy.  Music lowers blood pressure and spreads joy.  The murder case I worked on last month was sadder than sad but I might have held a clue to find the girl’s killer, and a reading I did this morning took away the frown on a young woman’s face. 

Back in the dinosaur era I taught speech communications at Harrisburg Area Community College.  Almost everyone hated giving speeches.  Almost everyone wished they could be somewhere else.  The fear was as palpable as severe turbulence when I was a flight attendant.  In those two jobs I learned how to deal with fear, which in turn helps me with crime. 

Last month, thunderstorms knocked out the power in my music studio and my room got dark as night.  Little Jenny cried and we ran for her mom.  Last week she bounced into my music studio with fire and energy.

“Do you want to come to my BIRTHDAY PARTY?  I will be FIVE.  You are so much FUN!”  she squealed. 

We all have insecurities.  I have tons.  But children remind us what we are doing right. 

Mom said, "Don't Wish Your Life Away"

I like the future more than the past.  I plan next season and next year.  It doesn’t matter if my plans change but the fantasy thrills me.  Sometimes I wonder if it is because of my psychic work.  In both murder cases and when helping people with their problems, I time travel to the past and soar to the future.  While the past seems fraught with angst, the future equals promise and potential. 

Now it’s summer, a season that reminds me of my mother.  She worked swing shift as a nurse so summer meant the two of us washed sheets and made beds.  I ironed my dad’s handkerchiefs and complained of boredom.

“I wish there were something to do,” I whined.

“Don’t wish your life away,” she barked.

She was right and wrong.  Right because I miss those slow hot days and her long sighs.  Wrong because the future does fill me with hope.  The present is fine but with it comes an assessment of what I have and what I do not.  Right now I have hives from who knows what, poison ivy in my yard and bees I am allergic to. 

The future holds all things.  A chance one of my children will give me a grandchild.  The possibility of another trip to Europe.  Maybe a boyfriend before I am 80. 

Wish what you want.  Wishing is good.  Wishing is rich and free. 

Am I Scared of Being Psychic?

I hear two questions over and over regarding my psychic abilities.  The first is….How Long Have You Known You Had This? The second is….Aren’t You Scared?  The first question is easy but I struggle with the second.  Do these people mean, am I scared of my own abilities?  Or do they mean, am I scared that a murderer I helped convict will get out of jail and hunt me down? 

There are many scary jobs.  The recent accident with circus acrobats falling to the floor is one.  What law enforcement personnel deal with every day is another.  I thought my mom’s job as a nurse seemed scary but she said it was not. 

My answer is no, I am not scared.  I have had this ability since my first memories.  Why be scared of what has always been with me?  If the person asking the question has committed questionable or negative acts, I say, it’s YOU who should be scared of ME.  They giggle nervously and move away.  And I’m glad. 

Fear gives me a stomach ache.  When I feel it, I banish it and replace it with a positive forward force.  At 63, I have today and maybe tomorrow.  I have people to love and places to see.  None of us should let fear hold us back from what we need to do.