1963 - 1972
Book of Gen
Do not praise your success too well.
There are still many days to go,
and the gods have a sense of humor. - Ardriana Cahill
When I think back to the simplicity and ignorance that was my life as a child, I wonder at anyone who wishes that they could return to that carefree age. It was never care free. It was difficult, never knowing what to say or what to do, which way to turn or when.
This is a record of the beginning of my journey to womanhood. I was thirteen. At this time, Mother was still keeping her secrets, but that was going to change very soon.
I lived at the pool in summer. It had been that way since I was 8 years old. I had been on a speed swimming team with playmate L.A.E., because she thought it would be cool to do it together. But I wasn’t very strong and my upper body weakness made me lose a lot of races. I liked competing but my favorite joy was just swimming. Mostly underwater. My woman’s body was beginning to peek in on me and it was fun, having the boys notice me. One life guard was always flirting with me, Rod Anderson. (Do you believe that name for a lifeguard?) He was gorgeous. He dated my step-sister for a bit. I was not privileged to know why they broke up. But I knew that he was just being nice to me and it never occurred to me to take him seriously. I just thought he was dreamy and loved the attention. I spent as much time in the sun turning golden brown as I did in the water. At this age, I needed a brush, lip gloss and a little mascara, even between dips, so for the first time in my life I carried a purse to the pool.
In the early days of the sixties, Las Vegas was still a small town. We didn’t need to lock our doors. We didn’t have neighborhood crime. I didn’t think about the safety of my purse, tucked under the corner of my beach towel. I had brought it to the pool every day for nearly three months and didn’t worry about it. So it was a shock, when towards the end of the summer, it was stolen.
After the shock set in, I realized that a piece of jewelry was in the purse and I was crushed that it was taken. I was so upset, lit a candle to Saint Anthony, one of mother’s patrons, and the patron of lost articles. I lit the candle each night for weeks and prayed over and over and over that I didn’t care about the money, the class pictures, the brush, mirror and makeup. I didn't care if the thief kept everything, I just wanted my Blessed Mother medal back. I had earned that medal by selling the most Christmas Cards to raise funds for the new church. I loved that medal.
So, I visualized me holding the purse in my hands, opening it up and finding the medal inside. After weeks and weeks of effort, I finally let the medal go. It was about another three weeks, in October that I came home from school to find the purse tossed at the foot of my bed. I picked it up with wild anticipation, to find inside. . . Not a bobby pin, not a penny, not a piece of lint - just my Blessed Mother medal.
I went running out to the living room and asked mother where it came from. She was rather blasé about it. A little boy came to the door earlier and said that he thought that the purse belonged to me. Mother had forgotten that it was stolen. She hadn't known the hours of visualization and prayer I had put in to getting its return, until I told her that day. I thought that it was a miracle. It was the first time I had ever heard my mother say the gods gave us everything we needed to make our own miracle. She said that I had gotten it back with the work I'd done. She looked at me in a way she never had before. That experience was the first one I had with willful magick.
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Mother said that she wanted to talk to me one day after school. She was sitting at the dining room table with the Ouija board. She asked me if I had ever worked the board one handed. I told her that the board is not supposed to work with only one hand. The “rules” say that working one handed doesn't provide enough energy. That without the pin in the indicator, it wouldn’t work. If one person tried to push it, it would stop working. There were all kinds of rules...most of them superstition. Mother put her hand on the board and it flew across the letters, talking to her.
I thought it was altogether too cool. I asked what it was saying to her. She said that it quoted poetry to her and told her stories and promised good fortune and events in her future. It told her that she would find a long lost friend. That there were things that she was going to learn from the board.
I found the board on the table many afternoons when I got home from school. But it was always put away before Daddy got home. If it were left out, she would say that I was playing with it. It was the first secret that we shared. I sensed that she didn't want my father to know that she was playing with it, and I would happily say it was me to keep her secret.
The 4 pillars of Sacred Magick
Knowledge - Will
Daring - Silence
A few weeks later, a few days before my 13th birthday. I came home from school and my mother was working the board. She said that she was hesitant to do this, but she needed to tell me some things and then ask me some questions.
She told me about Grandmother reading tea leaves and her herbal remedies. She told me how accurate she was until she predicted a death that made her stop reading. She told me how the KKK burned a cross in their yard as a warning to her witchly ways. Then, she told me about the picture of Saint Anne that was in her room and how, as a child, she would divine with it. She would ask it questions and the image would nod yes and no to her. That was when I told her that I had the same relationship with a statue of the Blessed Mother. She reminded me of the story when she was a teenager and her friend (Aunt) M. was spending the night, and how Aunt M. woke her up because she was speaking fluent French. Mother didn’t speak French and Aunt M. did. She reminded me of how she had avoided a car accident because she saw it a split second before it happened and screamed making the driver brake before the accident reached them. She reminded me of how often our dog would run away for two weeks every summer and come home, tired, beaten up but, still he came home. She reminded me of her varicose vein surgery and how she walked days before she was supposed to and how the scars went away. She reminded me of the hundreds of little things that she "decided" on that always seemed to make her lucky. She began to tell me the stories of my Grandmother's luck and about all traditions that we did as a family, for holidays and special occasions because Grandmother was Irish because the Irish had traditions for a reason. And, it may surprise me to know, that not everyone believed the way we did.
I was a little surprised but not much. Mother had always had a formidable will but I never thought about it magickally. She was gifted at making life seem magickal and rare and special and that it was that way “just for me.” Relating her childhood psychic abilities to me reminded me of the psychic abilities I had experienced. She told me that the board said that I was special. That we came from a long line of special people. Men and women. But especially the women.
She told me that I had special gifts. That she noticed them since I was little. That my sister and brother had some gifts too, but not as accessible as mine were. She said that centuries ago, if a child was found to be special, she was either killed or sent to be fostered by someone who could teach them to use their gifts. She said that if i had been born in the middle ages, the red dagger birth mark in my eye would have cause me to be thrown down a well.
She said the Ouija Board was teaching her new skills and explaining her existing skills and that it was time that Mother should to work with me. I was excited and eager. I said sure! But Mother said no. I couldn’t answer that fast. I needed to think about it after she asked me some questions. She asked me what I would do to end poverty, hunger, war and ignorance. When I gave her the answer she was told I would say, she asked me if I would agree to embark on a series of instructions and practices that will help me attain gifts to achieve these goals, first, for myself, then for others, and later - if I worked really hard - for the world. She asked me would I dedicate myself to this work. I said I would. Then she asked me would I do it even if I had to suffer the scorn of others who might turn against me in misunderstanding? I said I would.
Even against those who would seek to destroy (y)our efforts? I said I would. Then, I was asked to take an Oath of Silence to tell no one what I learned, to protect myself and those who would be studying with me? And I did.
I was told that I would receive three gifts for my oath taking.
The Slow Will
And Safety in Travel for me and those I love
A few months later, I was allowed to tell my best friend C.H. Mother was there to explain, to ask the questions that she was to answer before she could be included. She answered them the way I did and we were told some secrets. We would have some kids and they would take a theory that we would write about using one’s gifts to improve one’s personal life and our kids would grow up to prove the theory. The theory would come from our being taught how to use those gifts and us writing down what we learned, how we used those gifts and to what end. C.H. thought it was cool. And she became the first designated partner on my path.
Shortly after that, Mother told Dad. Then she told my half brother and sister who were both out of the house by then, married and on their own. They were never asked the questions and they were told assuming that, being family, they would understand. At first they were calm about it but soon, we got our first example of the scorn that was predicted because we didn’t believe the way other people did. Part of the family philosophy did not agree with the standard Judeo-Christian ethic that we were supposed to ascribe to being good Catholics. (Which neither of my siblings were because they were raised with the same philosophies filtering throughout their lives as well as mine and had fallen away from the church.) These philosophies were like the ones Grandmother taught us and even went further. Eventually my father, brother and sister denounced our beliefs and practices as - crazy and weird- as witchcraft - even as satanic and Mother was told that she was going to ruin my life by embroiling me in her philosophical studies.
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Remember Who You Are
Mother believed that we each are receptacles of our genetic heritage. That we hold within the unconscious mind, memories, lessons, talents, traits and abilities of our ancestors. Now many post modern thinkers believe that there lies the beasties of our fears and prejudices but mother believed that it was were the best of our ancestry was stored. Yes, there are some bad memories. Yes, some fears. But if you are in charge, you open to the positive and shed the negative. One need not be a victim of one's subterranean psyche. So, we are ancestor worshippers because we believe that we carry examples of their spirits and nobility within as unconscious genetic treasure, as well as those conscious stories we keep as the bards our clan. Thus, we are not just the sum of our personal experiences, but the examples and experiences of generations upon generations of noble spirits who have lived before us. And some of them are watching. So, one must carry oneself in a manner that honors those who are watching. There was never a time I left the house that the last words I heard before I closed the door was - Remember who you are.
It took another 20 years to understand fully what those words mean. But I understand them now. They are another part of Mother's Rede that aids me in all decisions and choices both mundane and magickal.
Many of Mother’s family stories were hero tales about Grandmother, her great aunts, her grandfather (my great grandfather) being people who had a reputation for free thinking and disagreeing with the norm. (Not actually anarchists, they simply set example after example of choosing a path differing from the norm and ultimately proving that their way was best for them.) The story of Grandmother's bravery by exposing herself to the deadly flu epidemic of 1918-1919 (that killed over a half million Americans and over 21 million worldwide) in order to nurse her brother back to health. The doctor refused to let her into his room, saying that he was dying and that all she would do is catch the disease, too. The way she "decided" that she would not catch the flu was dramatic and powerful She "decided" that her brother would not die. For the whole story See Book of Gen: Grandmother's Wisdom,1918 Unabashed Courage
Even my father was included in the heroic stories, with his being shot down over Japan and waking up in a VA hospital being told that he would never walk again. And him saying, “Watch me.” By sheer force of will, he did walk again.
Mother told me how Grandmother invited the parish priest to dinner every Friday night, and then argued with him throughout dinner about the practices and rules of the Church. I thought the stories just taught me how strong willed and what free thinkers we were as a breed. I thought everyone was like us. So, Mom and I never really considered giving up, at least trying to see if the Work actually worked, just to please the family. We did stop talking about it. (Iit's it funny, though, how they would always bring it up!) My step-sister must have asked me 50 times over the next 20 years, “Do you still believe in all that junk?” She never really seemed to notice the daily proof (of luck and good fortune) that kept us seeking. (Even as she complained that if it weren't for bad luck she's have no luck at all!) I simply said, "Well, if that's working for you - don't change a thing!" It was and she didn't.
Even then, I didn’t really get the idea that we were witches, although the word was bantered around the house all the time. Mother would brag about her ability to have good weather follower her wherever she went. She could call the sun or the rain at will. She was always “deciding” a thing to happen and it usually did - and she did it in front of people. So, how could that be a part of the secret?
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08 DEC 1963,
Pan Am - Flight 214
The aircraft, named 'Clipper Tradewind' heading for Philadelphia arrived at Baltimore's Washington International Airport and took off again after refuelling. After contacting Philadephia International Airport Approach Control the crew elected to wait in a holding pattern along with 5 other aircraft because of extreme winds. Flight 214 entered a holding pattern west of the New Castle. At 20.58h Clipper Tradewind suffered a lightning strike which caused the initial ignition of flammable fuel vapours inside the left reserve fuel tank. This triggered explosions in the centre and right reserve fuel tanks as well. Fuel spilled and caught fire; the complete left wingtip separated as a result. A 'Mayday' call was recieved by Philadephia Approach as the plane was descending out of control. The aircraft was then seen to crash in flames about a minute later taking seventy-three passengers and a crew of eight to their deaths.
It was shortly after my initiation that my psychic abilities began opening up. According to Mother, the opening of one's auto suggestionwas one of the gifts received at initiation. The down side of it was the beginning of a fourteen year span of the plane crashes that I witnessed through clairvoyant dreams. It is somewhat obscure, that of all things it would be planes that I would connect to. My father had been a pilot most of his life and at the time, worked for Bonanza Air Line where we flew at no charge. We took week-end trip to Los Angeles, Reno, Phoenix, Tucson and Mazatlan for the next to nothing. I was a veteran air traveler by the age of 15 and even wanted to be a flight attendant when I was graduated from high school. I wasn't afraid of flying.
About this crash: I didn't know where the plane came from or where it was going to, when I dreamt of it. I think I connected to it because I had family in Phili. I was a passenger sitting on the left side of the plane. I remember lots of turbulence. The left wing blew up and we began to fall, then nothing. The dream was short and lasted only a minute or so.
I woke up screaming, rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Mother thought I had the stomach flu and kept me home from church and from school the next day. I was on the couch watching the evening news on TV the day after the crash, when we heard the news that my dream had come true. I gasped and then had to hide my reaction because I couldn't show it in front of my father. I told Mother about it the next day. She counseled me, calmed me and helped me put some emotional distance between me and vision.
I didn't keep accurate records in the beginning even though I kept a journal and recorded the dreams as they happened. I was also recording my love life and at the end of a three year relationship - I burned all my journals. (Stupid. Thinking I could purge my memory with fire.) One day in the early 90s, I went researching the crashes that I didn't have details on. After about an hour devoted to transcribing the plane crashes that I had dreamt about, I noticed that my thighs were tensing up and my stomach was upset. There were more plane crashes than I remembered. As I read, I remembered some that I had suppressed. I began hyperventilating, my heart began palpitating and my chest got tight. I quit when I realized that I was trembling. I had to stop and finish my research over a period of a week, taking it only about twenty minutes at a time. (That amount of time being a reflex of my Mother's training when doing something that is potentially damaging to one physically. No more than 20 minutes.) Sometimes, just re-reading these entries, I am again experiencing the panic and terror from behind someone else's eyes as if they were mine, as if it wasn't a dream, but real. That is why these particular entries will come in spurts. It is physically painful to write them.
And people ask me why I hate to fly. I tell them that I don't hate to fly. I hate "rapid down."
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Christmas Day 1963
The Ouija board and Proof
Mother bought me a Ouija Board for Christmas. C.H., T.S., and S.R. were sitting around the living room debating whether my Ouija board was a game or a tool of Witchcraft. We could not decide if there were spirits on the other side or not. C.H. and I agreed that the board could be magickal. S.R. was a non-believer. T.S. was a non-believer too, but he was also a prankster so he sided with the girls. S.R. devised a test. Using one of my families traditional Christmas gifts - a calendar (...a gift of time...to be inscribed with magickal and familial dates and traditions…), S.R. decided to randomly pick dates from the future year and C.H. and I would ask the board to tell us what day it fell on. With a 1 in 7 chance of getting one answer right, then times that by 20 dates...the mathematical odds for success were slim. Getting 19 out of 20 correct had to be a trick. But I was doing the guessing and I knew it wasn't a trick. I had no idea how the hell I did it. That, was my first introduction to divination and I scared myself silly. I didn't show it, but I knew something was up.
When C.H. and I discussed this event years later, we decided that it wasn't divination, but telepathy. She was looking at the date, and I was reading her.
C.H. and I were fascinated with the Board and played with it often. We would ask if someone was going to the dance. If we would pass a test. Of course we asked who we would marry and it gave us the names we hoped for. (At the time it would have been D.H. for me and our friend, T.S. for her.) We got big and small answers and even then we had better than chance accuracy.
The voices of caution say never to use the board alone. I tried several times but could not get it to work. C.H. and I were very good together though. The board moved quickly and accurately. Not really believing in spirits, it was hard for us not to ask who we were talking to. The name given was Sol (Sun). It would be years before I’d put that little piece of information into the puzzle that was most of the information we got from the board on the Science.
Sol told us we were sisters and that we were very talented. Ironically, it wasn’t until after we worked the board that we developed telepathy. I thought it was pretty cool, but C.H. thought is was a bit creepy. I was a stronger sender than a receiver, but she was excellent at catching my thoughts on a regular basis. The Science would teach us that C.H. had a very strong form of telepathy that translated itself not into the whispered thoughts that were hard to recognize as different than oneself, (What Mother called Ghost Tone) but translated itself into what we called Audio. C.H. would think I was talking to her out loud. I would always have to correct her, and tell her that I had only thought the words that she thought she heard.
I remember one night when she was spending the night and my parents were at a party. C.H. must have caught me 10 times. Making the bed we were talking about something that made me think something negative about myself. Like, “Right I’m really going to be able to do that!” And she yelled at me for running myself down. Then, something in the window scared us, I remember. (Probably our own reflections!) Then something in the kitchen. I was reaching into the refrigerator and I was going to ask her if she wanted something and she answered before I could get the words out.
We grew to a point that we talked over each other all the time with exactly the same words. It was mostly fun and Mother explained that we should treat it as a game. She explained that our experiences were just exercises that didn't really MEAN anything. We had no idea that we were in training.
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C.H. and I practiced the board together perhaps not as often as we should have. We did work it (work not play as it had become a tool not a toy) several times a month but we were just kids. Going to middle school was a big deal and all the emotional rollercoaster riding that teens go through would side track us from our part of the job. But we were glad to sit for hours with Mother and let her tell us what she was reading off the board. She would predict small events for us to look forward to as proof that what she was getting was valid. We would ask questions of her and besides being told we needed to do it ourselves, we would get answers that gave us small confidence that we were practicing something very cool.
Even though C.H. and I didn’t read the board the way we were instructed to, other talents began to develop in us. We both began to experience better telepathy. We were having true dreams. We were being bombarded with deja vous. We were finding that school was easier. We always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. And just like in the movie, “The Craft,” because we were changing, we began to walk a little taller. I found myself on the dance committee, on the newspaper, the band librarian and I was becoming a kind of popular that I had never known.
I sat First chair/first until a new girl came in who had faster fingers than I did. Every time she could challenge me for my chair, she would choose something that needed fast fingers. Every time I challenged her for my chair back, I would choose something that she would have to sight-read. Festival was coming and sight-reading was critical to our good grade in the competition. We finally concluded that my eyes were a greater asset to the chair than her fingers. I told her that I’d see that she got a solo (a privilege of first chair). We became great friends. For a pair of 14-year-old girls, it could have been disastrous. I was getting better at reading people.
We were beginning to understand that secrets give you power. C.H. was a year younger than I was plainer looking than as I was, with her curly red hair and glasses. I was coming into my looks and was quite flashy by comparison. Yet her personality was so funny and fun to be around, she was getting prettier, every day. I knew that she had the upper hand in the personality race and being around her, I was getting more clever.
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15 NOV 1964
Bonanza Air Lines - Flight 114
Twenty-six passengers and three crew members died in the crash of a Fairchild F27A Trubo-Prop on route from Sky Harbor, Phoenix to Las Vegas. It crashed at night in a snowstorm on approach to McCarran Airport. They guessed that the Captain misread the approach charts and descended too low hitting the mountains. The plane could hold 45 passengers but was half full due to the lateness of the flight. Flights like these were called "Non-Rev Specials." Non-reservation passengers were passengers that worked for Bonanza and could fly for free when space was available. Flights like this held more non-paying passengers than paying passengers. There were several employees that die on this flight.
I'd drempt about the crash two days before it happened. But it wasn't like the other plane crash. It wasn't as graphic but this crash was with the airline my father worked for. This was the airline that my family flew "Non Rev." Daddy knew the people who died; the flight crew: pilot, copilot and stewardess and the other employees coming home late sunday night from a week-end in Phoenix. Some of them flew there to golf, some had family there. Daddy was their credit union manager. He arranged no-interest loans to the families that didn't have insurance to bury their dead. We went to a memorial service for them at the airport, held in one of Bonanza's hangers. I remember it being really, really sad. It was years before the merger with West Coast and Pacific Airlines which would create Air West in 1967. It was still just Bonanza Air Lines and this was the only crash the airline ever had. The company was still small and treated its people like family. Everyone knew everyone, with company picnics, and parties that even the children attended. It was personal to the employees and their famlies alike.
I think it was extraordnary that I didn't develope a fear of flying - right then. I had just turned fourteen and I'd only been flying for about two years. I'd flown the F-27 dozens of times. I'd even flow the plane that crashed. But, I trusted my mother so much, that my psychic gifts were normal, natural and I'd get better at using them. And I trusted my father so much, that flying was safe. I think the first time I'd ever flown was a short sprint to see my brother at UNR in Reno. Daddy and I both sat in isle seats with Mother in a window seat. He explained what the pilot was doing during take off, how the air turbulance to a plane was no more dangerous than a pothole in the road was to a car, and he talked wme throught he landing graded the pilots efforts as perfect. He was a pilot in the war and beening shot down, crash landing his plane with an 8-man crew, being crushed in the cockpit which put him in a six month coma and fracturing his back, with six more months of excruciating rehab. He was told he would never walk again. This diognosis was the blackest day of his life. Not because he might never walk again, but because he would never fly again. The air force grounded him. Short of piloting, he took every opportunity to fly as a passenger. He was a bank manager and took a pay cut to become the credit union manager for the airlines. But he was around planes again - and as close to heaven as he could get.
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D.H. was my sweetheart all of 1963. I met him when he was short, pudgy and adorable. Over the summer, the school district rezoned the area so that he would be going to a different school. Because we would not be seeing each other, we broke up. September and the new school year brought a two week relationship with a punk name Jerry and an adorable ruffian named Hank. Onewas too wild for me and the other was too transient. I really missed D.H. I really wanted him back. I lit a candle for him to call me, worked the magick for over a week...and...
The school district didn’t like the new reapportionment and changed everything back the way it was. D.H. was transferred back to my school. Just as I was coming into my womanhood, he was coming into his manhood. He had grown five inches and lost all his baby fat. He was the talk of the locker room. All the girls were drooling. I really wanted him back and I didn’t think I had a chance because some really pretty girls were going after him. So, I confided my heartache to Mother. I told her that my spell didn't work - he didn't call. And she said no, he didn't call, he just got transferred back you my school!!!
So - now she said first, I had to not acknowledge the competition. I had to not cloud my thinking with thoughts of other girls that I thought were prettier and smarter than me. Then, she said I had to start walking into a room (the band room where he played drums) as if I owned the place. (I had to learn to wear my confidence.) Finally, I needed to "decide" that within two weeks he would call to ask me out. With the new found confidence that had been growing within me, the battle plan from Mother. I lit a candle. I chanted over the candle that he would call me in two weeks. I walked into a room like I owned it and never acknowledged the competition. I didn’t flirt. I didn’t giggle. I didn’t send a friend to tell him I still liked him. I did look at him when he was making a joke or getting yelled at by our bandmaster. I never said a word to him and he called in two weeks. That was the first time I realized that I was a witch.
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C.H. and I devised our first love spell.
For Romantic Love - Circa 1964 with C.L.H.(J.)
(Caveat Emptor - Buyer Beware. What they say about the folly of love spells can very well be true in the hands of the young, foolish, inexperienced or all of the above.)
It’s an age old tradition for young women to bake cakes or pies, enchant them and feed them to a potential husband. C.H. and I wrote this spell when we were about 14. We did the ("Ceremony") spell with apple or cherry tarts, laying the triangle tarts center points overlapping and the dough pressed together. After baking, we took the white icing and wrote the girl’s name, initial or secret symbol on one tart, the boy’s name, initial or secret symbol on the other tart. Then we enchanted the connecting tips of tarts at the center point with extra icing to make the now two tarts look like a butterfly. We first lit a candle and began the spell from there.)
(Mark in icing the name, initial or symbol of the one desired)
This is D.H. or T.S.
(Ice the name, initial or symbol of the one desiring)
This is L.M. or C.H.
Using the icing to bind the points of the tarts together)
Mind, Heart, Spirit, Body
His to mine, With this I sign
Offer your half to him, and you eat his half. If you can’t do that, eat both halves visualizing your magickal intention. Before anyone takes the first bite say:
Sweet Tart, reveal his heart.
We actually managed to bake them for the boys once, but usually we ate the tarts ourselves. We had no idea at the time that we were recreating an age old tradition, until Mother told us about the cakes Grandmother would bake for her daughters. And it worked relatively well on the boys, as the flowers above attests. But, we actually got the lesson of that every witch tries to tell a new witchling. Love spells aren't dangerous, but they can be mean. And so was this one.
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08 FEB 1965
Eastern Air Lines - Flight 663
A mid air collision was narrowly avoided as Flight 663 departing New York-JFK Airport miss PanAm, Boeing 707, Flight 212 as it was approaching. Flight 663 over corrected, lost control and crashed 6,5mls SSW of Jones Beach, Long Island. All seventy-nine passengers and the five man crew died in the impact.
This was the first post-crash event I ever had. I had no extra sensory understanding of the crash before the crash. While reading the report of the crash, I flashed on the pilot fighting to stablize the plane. It was brief and vivid and the least emotional. No fear or panic, just struggle.
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Because D.H was maturing faster than I was, he would break up with me for a few weeks, while telling everyone that he still loved me. I was terribly confused. I didn’t understand why he was dating older girls and then coming back to me. Tony eventually to explained it to me. Every time I would do the love spell to win him back, it worked. I’d get him back for a few months and then he’d be off again.
11 NOV 1965
United Air Lines - Flight 227
Flight 227 took off from New York-LaGuardia for a flight to San Francisco via Cleveland, Chicago, Denver and Salt Lake City. The aircraft took off from Denver's Stapleton International Airport and started the Salt Lake City International Airport runway approach less then an hour later. The aircraft crashed on landing, impacting 335ft short of the runway and colliding with threshold lights, which caused the main landing gears to collapse. It slid for 2838ft and a fire erupted. Eight-five passengers were on board of which 43 died. The crew of six escaped.
Of this crash what I remember the most was how hot the fire was and the flames burning my lungs.
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Fall of 1965
Mother believed in young love. I had loved D.H. for nearly three years. She hated seeing my pain and after a tearful tirade, mother told me how to get him back to keep him.
I had his signature, pressed flowers, a German coin he had cut in half and drilled that we wore as love tokens, notes and letters, movie ticket stubs and dozens of other memorabilia to work with. Mother taught me to concentrate on the things that reminded me of him and the happy times we had. She told me to do nothing different at school. I was not to smile especially sweetly or glare at him to get his attention. I was to do nothing to get his attention - no dressing in his favorite clothes or wearing my hair in his favorite style. Nothing. I was to say nothing, do nothing that would indicate that I was interested in him still.
Each night I lit a candle and stared at my memorabilia. I "decided" that he was going to call me. That was all. Just call me. I could do the rest. I told no one. Mother said to set a time limit, like two weeks. I did and to the day - the phone rang.
He called, sweeter than he could be, with declarations that he was an idiot and I was the only person he wanted to be with and invited me to the Thanksgiving parade. I told him I’d love to but we were going away for the week-end. Looking for a place to live in Phoenix, because we would moving at the end of the school year in June. He said that he’d wait until I came back from the trip and call me again.
That week-end I met F.J.F. The young man who entangle my heart for 20 years. I’d felt so bad coming back from Phoenix and having to tell D.H. I had fallen in love with F.J.F. He didn’t believe me and spent weeks pursuing me, sure that since I couldn't be with the one I loved, that I'd love the one I was with. We tried to just hang out and be friends, but it was obvious that he wanted more. He thought that long distance relationships could be easily broken. In the end, he hated me. I thought, deservedly so. Or so I thought. T.S. told me several years later that he’d married his childhood sweetheart, B.F. She had loved him since kindergarten. I thought it was kind of cool. But T.S. had asked him if he was happy. He responded, “As happy as I can be, being married.” He wasn’t in love with her. He had never been in love with her. He loved her, but... She’d gotten him on the rebound. And he confessed to T.S. that would never love anyone the way he loved me. I don't know if T.S. was telling me the truth, or what he thought I wanted to hear, but I felt horrible. I had loved him, as much as a 14-year-old girl could love a boy. I didn’t want to believe that I had truly hurt him. But I did. Was it the magick? Or just the irresistibly dazzling person that I was? Either way, I learned my lesson and I baked tarts no more.
T.S. didn’t discover until after his third wife in almost as many years, that he probably lost something precious when he didn’t take C.H. up on her invitations. He found that he thought of her more than he should. He was never happy for very long and told me that the times the three of us had together we the happiest times of his life.
I never cast a love spell again, or so I thought. Because when I cast the last one, I was too stupid to know how powerful I was. It was an accident. (See Magickal Records: November 17, 1991)
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Winter of 1965
Still the dreams kept coming. I remember waking up after having a bad dream that a tall dark man came to me in a dream and he said, “you’re not going to marry F.J.F., You’re going to marry me.” Both the man and F.J.F. were images in silhouette, standing in swirling, backlit fog. The man was much taller than F.J.F. was who was only about 5’8”. I was so upset because I couldn’t see who was talking to me.
I had gotten a letter from F.J.F.’s girlfriend of 4 years telling me that I didn’t deserve him, that he belonged to her. It was very upsetting. I sent the letter to him telling him that I didn't know how to respond to it and he called me with reassurances that he had responded to it. But, the dream left me unsettled. As it turned out, there was a reason for that.
Bonanza Airlines was buying larger planes - the DC-9's were going to need bigger hangers. McCarran Airport was unwilling to give Bonanza the hanger space. Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix offered us hanger space and a new building of posh offices. They offered to help find housing and even find jobs for spouces. It would take a year to accomplish. My best friend, C.H. who lived accross the street had already moved. Her father worked for Bonanza too - as a mechanic. And the ground crews were moving six months ahead of the office personnel.
MORE: Preparing to move to Phoenix.
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“You’re the Devil”
Mother was getting predictions off the board that made her uncomfortable. Lofty promises of dreams come true. She believed the board was trying to seduce her. And being the reasonably educated person that she was, listening to the nay-sayers that were the rest of the family. She began to think that perhaps she was a little crazy to believe. The smaller predictions were coming true every day. Her lessons to try this to achieve that, were working. And she was getting lectures on “The Science” regarding what magick really was.
But the big predictions scared her. The one that finally made her want to stop was the one that told her that my father would become restless and that they would be divorced in four years. She loved my father and although they had their difficulties, she never regretted marrying him. They were looking forward to the new adventure of moving to Phoenix and starting a new life. Dad was making more money; we were going to get a bigger house. She also knew the pitfall of “self fulfilling prophesies” and that humans can be pretty pliable. She also knew that in life, “We find what we seek.”
She didn’t want to divorce my father. She didn’t want her marriage to fail. She didn’t like what the board was telling her. She was afraid that if it was all self-delusion, she would unconsciously make the prediction come true. She felt that the information was wrong, and even bad. Perhaps even evil. (Unlike me, Mother’s Irish superstitions ran deep and she still could be afraid of the devil that she said she didn’t believe existed.)
I came home from school one day and Mother told me to break the board up. I was confused and wondered what went wrong. She said that it was telling her things she didn’t want to hear. So I went into the back yard, place the board on the porch step, and stepped on it to break it into three places. I could see that Mother was upset. Had I not been 15, in love and heading several hundreds of miles closer to that love; I probably would have asked more questions. As it was, she only told me the last two things that it told her. She said to the board that she thought it was the devil. It responded, "Fine thing, calling your own relatives, the devil." She said that was going to break up the board. It said, “Go ahead. It won’t stop.”
I don’t now why that didn’t scare me. But it scared the crap out of her.
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My father, mother and I arrived in Phoenix to find the predicted home we would live in was indeed painted green and near the railroad tracks(across the street). The predicted visits from F.J.F were accurate, and the new sports car that Daddy would buy(a Dodge Charger) was Citrine Gold.
One night, taking the new car out for a drive, we landed in Mesa at a drive-in restaurant call the Dog & Suds. A ten-feet by six-feet menu was painted in thick black letters on a white painted plywood sign and we ordered burgers and shakes that were delivered to the car by a car-hop. There wasn't much conversation going on, and I noticed Mother, sucking on the straw in her milkshake, staring at the menu. It wasn't that interesting a menu and I wondered what she was looking at. Daddy had to go to the bathroom and Mother said aloud that our dog, "left us a present". She said that he had pooped on the living room rug. She said he was mad for us leaving him because it was just a car ride, he was a good traveler and he was mad, so he pooped on the rug.
I was used to mother knowing things with or without a Ouija board, so I took this information as a matter of fact. When we got home, she and I shared the secret of foreknowledge when we found the dog's "present."
We hadn't talked much about the Science or my training - with me getting ready to begin a new school and seeing F.J.F. on weekend trips from Tucson. We also didn't talk about my father's restlessness when my pregnant sister and her two year old daughter moved in with us while her husband was in Thailand during the Viet Nam war. Several months after that, my father said that the two year old and the new baby's crying were effecting his work and he said that he was moving out just until my brother-in-law came home from the war. He never moved back in.
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06 AUG 1966
BAC One-Eleven 203AE
Braniff Airways - Flight 250
Flight 250 originated out of New Orleans, LA for a passenger flight to Minneapolis, MO with intermediate stops at Shreveport, LA, Fort Smith, AR, Tulsa, OK, Kansas City, MO and Omaha, NE. Flight 250 departed Kansas City to Omaha when the crew asked if they could remain at 5000ft because of the weather. The flight remained at 6000ft until permission was received to descend to 5000ft. At 23.08 the crew contacted a company flight which had just departed Omaha who reported moderate to light turbulence there. About four minutes later Flight 250 entered a narrow line of severe thunderstorms. The plane violently accelerated upward and in a left roll. At this time the right tailplane and the fin failed. The aircraft then pitched nose down and within one or two seconds the right wing failed as well. The plane tumbled down in flames until stabilizing into a flat spinning-attitude before impacting the ground. Braniff regulations prohibit a plane from being dispatched into an area with a solid line of thunderstorms; however the company forecast was somewhat inaccurate with respect to the number and intensity of thunderstorms and the intensity of the associated turbulence.
Thirty-eight passengers and a crew of four died in this crash. There were no survivors. I dreampt it the morning of the crash. August 1966 was a sleepy month for me. I was new to Tempe and had no friends. School hadn't started yet. I spent a lot of time in my room reading, talking on the phone to C.H. in Scotsdale and F.J.F., watching TV and sleeping late. During weeks of uneventful days - this crash stands out. I remember feeling that we were in the flat spin anticipating the end for what seemed forever. I remember lucidly trying to wake up and get out of the dream, but failed to do so until we hit the ground. I don't remember the pain of death, but the sound still haunts.
***Next NEW Entry***
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With the prediction of my father's leaving, and it, so-called, having nothing to do with my mother - she acknowledged that the Ouija board's prediction was sadly true. She still hoped that she would mend her marriage, but Daddy never moved back into the house. On her own, without a job but Daddy paying the bills - Mother began to study again, using her new form of messaging through what we called Trick Sight. Using an alphabet on a piece of paper and letting her eyes do the work of the planchett. Our studies continued.
In the beginning, it was fun, a house full of women, Mother, step-sister, niece (2 years old) and myself. Only the dog was male. I had some wonderful experiences with my niece. We were telepathic and she sure had "the twinkle" about her, as Grandmother would say. I was pretty much living from visit to visit, phone call to phone call and letter to letter from F.J.F.
I met T.W. that year. She was into folk music and could play a guitar. We sang all the time, even though I didn't like her music - it was good exercise singing with her. Before the year was out, she was asking questions and studying with Mother and I. My step-sister never studied, she just ridiculed us. I grew to only tolerate her. But T.W. and I were sharing some cool exercises.
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Went to a gathering with Anton LaVey as speaker.
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09 MAR 1967
McDonnell Douglas DC-9
Trans World Airlines - Flight 128
TWA Flight 128 departed Los Angeles for Greater Cincinnati APT. They were cleared to land, straight in, on runway 18. The ILS glide slope, runway approach lights and Middle Marker weren't operational due to runway construction work. The crew couldn't see and use night visuals, in deteriorating weather without adequate altimeter cross-reference.
They hit the trees 9357ft fom the approach end of the runway, 429ft right of the extended centerline at an elevation of 875ft msl. The aircraft skidded and disintegrated, ending up 6878ft short of the runway.
The dream placed me as a passenger - I had no idea what was going on, it was sudden but remember the sound of the plane hitting the trees and the plane stopping. This was the only crash where I sensed that I was one of the survivors.
***Next NEW Entry***
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It was the "Summer of Love." The war in Viet Nam had three band members getting drafted, one of them losing fingers on his "fret" hand. Another not coming back at all. F.J.F. merged with another band that wasn't as good as his band. After an amazing summer in the club singing with the band, it all fell apart. He was facing the real possibility of Viet Nam. He didn't want me to wait for him. Late Summer, Mother decided that a trip back east to visit family would be good for me. So just the two of us got into the Dodge Charger and headed east.
There was a ton of magick that trip east, though. We always seemed to be at the right place at the right time. We took a wrong turn and Mother's Ghost Tone told her to not turn back. I looked on the map and it was a country road that ran parallel to where we were going - so we took it. It was a country road with not traffic and we quit when we found a cute little motel. We ate and went to bed watching the news - to find that nine city blocks were reported to be on fire in Witchita. Race riots were breaking out all over the country and we would have been there, if we had not made the wrong turn.
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The Mission San Xavier del Bac
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The Physical Science take-home test
Doing a homework worksheet there was a question that was twenty-five percent of the grade figuring the half life of a planet. That night I worked on it for over an hour unsuccessfully. I finally got was too tired to think, and said forget it. I went to bed and woke up slowly the next morning "in the corridor" between the conscious and unconscious mind. I could see the problem clearly. I remember thinking, “It’s so simple, even a child could do it!” I could see the formula and the problem worked out in detail. I got up quickly and scribbled the problem down. By 6th period, I couldn't remember how I did it even though I got the answer right and the proof was right in front of me. To this day, I can remember the answer to the problem was four. That's all that remains of that flash of perfect clarity. Mother thought I got the example to prove the possibility, as another one of my guinea pig episodes.
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Air Force Fighter Plane
I can't find exact copy on this accident because the Air Force doesn't release information
easily. I dreamed that an Air Force pilot flying out of Texas in a fighter plane to
Tucson crashed into a grocery store. I was inside the cockpit with him, he radioed that
he was going to eject but what no one knew was that something on his flight suit caught
on something. He died in the crash, but thankfully, no one was hurt on the ground. I
hope to someday go back to Tucson and see if there are any newspaper reports still
available that I can cite.
Air Force Fighter Plane
Picture and article published in the Tuscon Citizen, in a story recounting plane crashes out of Davis Monthan A.F.B. dated June 21, 2004 read:
"Another spectacular crash happened in December 1967, when an F-4 Phantom took off from Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and slammed into a supermarket on South Alvernon Way near East 29 Street. Four holiday shoppers died in that crash.
In a 10 month span from September 1967 through June 1968, four F-4s associated with D-M crashed, claiming seven lives."
I gratefully thank my Kindred, Sister Witch, Emily~ who, while browsing my website saw this entry, and found a story in Tucson Citizen recounting how many plane crashes there have been out of Davis Monthan A.F.B. Even though my date was wrong (I went my Junior year there in 1967-68 and sometimes school years become a blur), the origin of take off was wrong, and I forgot that there were deaths on the ground - even with so much of the information that I had wrong - she insightfully divined that this story was too close to ignore.
It can't get any closer! Seeing the picture of the Food Giant, reading that it was on Alvernon Way, I could clearly see Mother sitting at the dining room table, under the front window of our apartment and hear her voice saying that there were four deaths on the ground. I didn't remember the deaths because in my dream my vivid memory is entirely in the cockpit with the pilot. I distinctly remember a Texas connection, so now I am wondering if the pilot was from Texas, stationed at Davis Monthan. Still - even with questions remaining, I am so thrilled to get this much of my memory back. This clairvoyant dream was particularly vivid and frustrating, and was the ones that had me begging mother to make it stop. I only had a few more plane crash visions and then they stopped. I have been looking for this information for twelve years. Emily~ your are my hero!
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04 JUN 1969
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More to come:
NV-Further exploits on the board. Meeting Sol. The squirrel on my chest. Making a friend of an enemy. Love Spells: To get Jerry. Telepathy with C.H, Audio exercises.
66-AZ – Lessons, the Red Star and sleeping on the porch, The Mission - The Blessed Mother...St Francis and the man with the hat -
68-NV - Knowing "she who will not be named" having a boy. The stock yards picture and the cigar and pizza commercials and why I was exercising psychic scent. My dream of Dru and Manannan. Interpreting the Bridge of the Wen Efil for a grieving mother. Card reading - Shirley M.- photographer's reading. Knowing that I was having a boy. C.H getting married. Knowing C.R.R. was having a boy.
© 2004 Ardriana Cahill
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