A trip to the neighborhood psychic store

Last Saturday, I was running some errands with my daughters when we passed by a store called “Mystic Valley.”  I mentioned to my daughters (they are six and eight) that some people believe that they can tell the future and read other peoples minds.  My daughters were incredulous.  They thought I was being silly, so they made me “pinky swear” that I was telling the truth.  I pinky swore before making a U-turn to head back to the neighborhood psychic store.

“Come on,” I said.  “Let’s go into the store and check out the people who believe that other people can tell the future and read their minds.”  My daughters were still suspicious that I was making this up, but into the store we went.

The first thing you notice is the smell of incense.  We passed by the rack of psychic magazines, then the shelves of crystals, the piles of drums, and some ethnic carvings before noticing that there were about seven small tables scattered throughout the store, each of them with two people seated facing each other.  Many of the experts were holding the customers’ hands.  If you listened closely, you could hear the psychics counseling the customers.

“Now do you believe me?” I whispered to my daughters.  They didn’t know what to think.

I walked up to the checkout counter and asked the pleasant soft-spoken man what was going on at the tables.  He indicated that some of the people were psychics, others were doing tarot card …

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Time for a new national motto for the United States

I'm really tired of hearing the sorts of things most patriotic Americans utter to express what they believe to be the national character of the United States.  Consider some of the most common expressions: "The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave."  Or consider "The Greatest Country in…

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A college drop-out’s revenge

I recently had a chance to talk on the phone with an old high school friend who was an extremely talented artist. Paul (not his real name) took a few college courses, none of them in art, but dropped out before getting any degree.

I have vivid memories of glancing over during high school classes to see Paul doing something he did extremely well: drawing. He used a standard #2 pencil to do his magic. He cranked out dozens of expressive and lifelike bodies, faces, and hands. He did his work on the backs of class handouts, envelopes or any other scrap of paper he could get his hands on. I know I’m not exaggerating Paul’s abilities, because I’ve saved dozens of his drawings. The hands Paul drew might have been his best work. I remember Paul drawing, from memory, a vivid Sistine Chapel reproduction of God’s hand reaching out to touch Adam’s.

After the bell would ring, students would sometimes gather around Paul to see what he had been drawing. I can’t count the number of times that students would ask him how he did what he did. Paul was reluctant to discuss how. Maybe he didn’t understand how. His approach was to show, not tell.

Paul failed to pursue art in college. After struggling through general liberal arts classes for a few years, he dropped out of college to take jobs involving manual labor. He has always been a diligent worker, but his jobs have never really challenged …

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