#33, Retreat

Posted on March 8, 2009 by Trish and Rob

The next story is another example of a cluster synchronicity involving the repetition of a number, similar to the story about Maria and the number 14.

Some years ago, we flew out to California and noticed that the number 33 kept cropping up. Aisle 33, seat 33, flight 233. In a period of about seven hours, there were half a dozen recurrences of the number. We didn’t have any idea what it meant. So I finally turned to the I Ching – an ancient Chinese oracle that consists of 64 hexagrams – and looked up hexagram 33. As soon as I saw the title – Retreat – I understood what the number cluster was about.

At the time, my mother was in an Alzheimer’s unit, in room 33. Rob, our daughter, and I were in “retreat” from that situation. We interpreted the synchronicity as confirmation that we had made the right choice in taking a break from the situation.

As Frank Joseph writes in Synchronicity and You, “…Anyone thus confronted by the repetition of a number invariably feels that something important, perhaps even divine, is trying to communicate through the numerical symbol.”

Posted in #33, Numbers | 2 Comments

Mom’s Help

Posted on March 7, 2009 by Trish and Rob

This story comes from writer Sharlie West, one of several that she sent. It illustrates the emotional component of synchronicities, particularly when we’re faced with major transitions and upheavals.

In the fall of 1990 my mother had a stroke and was admitted to Hillhaven Nursing Home, about ten minutes from my house. One afternoon we were talking and out of nowhere, I said “I should have married Jimmy B. He always cared about me.” My husband, Frank, had died the previous year.

Mom look at me, puzzled. I had not mentioned Jim’s name for 40 years. Then she remembered him and said, “Yes, he had it pretty bad.” We laughed about that and then I forgot the conversation.

Three weeks later Mom had a heart attack and passed away.I was sitting in the living room with a friend and suddenly got the feeling someone was thinking about me. It was so intense I could feel the person in my mind and even see his image. He was middle-aged, with salt and pepper hair, glasses. No one I knew. I mentioned this to my friend who shrugged and said it was my imagination.

Not long afterward, I received a letter of condolence from Jimmy B. He had read the obituary in the paper. I was surprised and then remembered the conversation with Mom. He had gotten my address from the funeral home and not long after that he dropped by. It was the same man I had seen in my vision. Since Jimmy was thin with dark hair and no glasses there was no way I could have imagined him in the present.
Three weeks later, he moved in with me and eighteen years later we are still together.

We like to think my Mom helped out.

Posted in death, emotions, mothers | Leave a comment

Madison Avenue

Posted on March 6, 2009 by Trish and Rob

No astonishing, mind-blowing synchronicities–like the Blue Dog tale–came our way today. But, nevertheless, being aware of synchronicities seems to attract them.

For instance, this afternoon I opened an e-mail from my friend Madison just as a five-year-old neighbor girl walked into our porch looking for our cats. Trish called out: “Madison, what are you doing?” I replied to on-line Madison, and mentioned the cute little ‘synchronous’ Madison on the porch. Then I peeled myself away from the computer, walked into the kitchen, and glanced at the mundane photo of a teen girl and horse on the front page of a section of the Palm Beach Post. For some reason, I leaned over and read the caption below the picture, and found out the girl was named Madison. That made three Madison’s in five minutes. Nothing mind-boggling, but interesting.

I also experienced a yoga-related synchronicity today. Early this morning in a half-sleep before getting up, the image of one of my yoga students, who I hadn’t seen in months, came to mind. I wondered if she was still a member of the gym where I teach. I don’t know the woman very well, and for a moment wondered why I had thought of her. So I was surprised when, five minutes into the class, she walked into the room.

After class, she was standing by the front counter as I left. I stopped, said it was good seeing her again, then told her my story. She smiled and said, “Yeah, we’re all connected, aren’t we.”
Rob

UPDATE, 3/6/09
There’s actually a fourth Madison aspect to this story. While posting a new synchronicity tonight, I read Therese Patrick’s comment under the Madison story, that perhaps the synchronicity was a message for her. I mentioned this to Rob and he pointed out there was actually a fourth Madison. Yesterday, he was reading a novel called “Last On Earth,” which takes place in Madison High School.
Trish

UPDATE, 3/12/09
I just received a long, rambling synchronicity tale from a ‘Madsy.’ It was one of those stories in which the synchronicities are significant to the person experiencing them, but not that impressive or comprehensible to ‘outsiders’ like myself. But what struck me was that near the end she said her name is Madison and she attends the University of Wisconson in…Madison. That struck me as synchronous sense, but probably didn’t impress her when I replied with my serial Madison tale.
Rob

Posted in clusters, names, places, yoga | 3 Comments

Eyes of a Blue Dog: A Tale of Triple Synchronicity

Posted on March 5, 2009 by Trish and Rob

Yesterday I read my monthly horoscope on Susan Miller’s Astrology Zone and perked up when I read that friends from the past would contact me this month. In fact, just a couple of hours earlier I’d received an e-mail from an old college roommate, who had been out of touch – or maybe it was me—for about 20 years.

That sort of simple synchronicity doesn’t impress novelist Tony Vigorito. For Tony, the WOW factor enters when the synchronicities pile one on top of another. The following story is one such example with a BIG wow factor. It was posted last September on the website Reality Sandwich. Tony gave us permission to reprint it. –

This is not a story about the wow and holy cow of seeing your initials on someone’s license plate, or hearing a word you just learned on the radio, or running into a friend at the grocery store. Without offending the marvel of others, these do not entirely impress me, and seem more like artifacts of attention than bona fide synchronicities. (Although, it did give me pause when one reader wrote me amazed to report that when she was reading Just a Couple of Days, just as the main character looked at his watch and saw that it was 5:55 and wished for peace on Earth, she glanced at her bedside alarm clock and saw that it was, yes indeed, 5:55. So perhaps it counts if peace on Earth is at stake…)
In any event, along with sex and tornadoes, my second novel, Nine Kinds of Naked, is about synchronicity. What follows is the story of the evening that precipitated an ongoing cascade of synchronicity in my life that I remain helpless to fathom, save humming one of my favorite lines from the Beatles’ I Am the Walrus:
Don’t you think the Joker laughs at you?
Ho Ho Ho Hee Hee Hee Ha Ha Ha…
So, it was the evening of November 4, 2004, a Thursday, just a couple of days after George W. Bush was apparently reelected president, and a great gloom had settled over the land. It was an accidental gathering of friends at my house, everyone stopping by uninvited, and soon there were six of us, men and women alike, and someone had brought wine, and another a guitar, and cupboards were opened and more wine was seized and the refrigerator was ransacked and a great and nourishing feast was prepared by three as another played guitar and I harped my harmonica and another found a rhythm atop some stray pots and pans. And dishes were washed and a fire was built and we gathered around the fireplace on an old Oriental rug and ate, drank, and made merry as if there was nothing else to do in life.
A bookshelf stood sentry next to the fireplace, and throughout the evening various volumes were pulled out, random passages read aloud, always bearing insight on whatever was at hand, and at one point a friend of mine, a phenomenal visual artist in her own right, pulled a book out of her bag entitled, Blue Dog Man. It was the collected artwork of George Rodrigue, whose signature motif is the inclusion of a blue dog in all of his pieces, a terribly cute terrier/spaniel with eyes yearning for love and approval, apparently inspired by his deceased dog, Tiffany. The Blue Dog book was passed around and soon all of us were taking turns attempting to emulate Tiffany’s sad and hopeful eyes, though even the most determined among us were unable to hold the expression for more than a few seconds before succumbing once again to smiles and ha ha.
And the evening wore on and the men fetched more logs for the fire and conversation grew more trusting as wine and fire warmed our hearts, songs were shared and massages were traded and cuddles were puddled and the heartbreaking political landscape of late America became distant and forgotten, for life is where you are and who you are with, and on this evening neither corruption nor deceit could distract these souls from the obvious joy of existence.
At some point late in the evening I wandered over to my computer (I know I always seem to be online from the light on my profile, but I assure you I have a full and varied existence, and I’m just really lazy about turning my computer off…). Skimming through my inbox, the subject line of one email—sent a couple of hours ago, right around the time the six of us were making Tiffany’s blue dog eyes at one another—caught my attention. It read, very simply,
Eyes of a Blue Dog.
Intrigued, I open the e-mail and it’s from a reader in Toronto and there’s not a breath of explanation anywhere as to why she chose the phrase as her subject line. That’s curious, I’m thinking, but then I scroll down and notice that the name of the woman who sent the email is the same as Rodrigue’s dog,
Tiffany.
My credulity stretched, I call out to the others hey come look at this I’m serious. And everyone gathers around my computer as I show them the Eyes of a Blue Dog subject line and that the sender’s name is also Tiffany and we are impressed and even astonished by this curiouser and curiouser turn of events, but then someone else notices the signature line of her email, which read, in inexplicable summation of our evening,
good atmosphere, good friends, good conversation,
good wine, good books, and the space between.
If there was astonishment before there was now a bedlam of whoa dude and what the fuck amazement. I was charged with replying to her email immediately to demand an explanation, which I did, sharing a more pebbled version of the above story and the next day I find out that she’s never heard of George Rodrigue or his dog Tiffany, but she had recently read the short story, Eyes of a Blue Dog, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and was likening it to the phrase, Just a Couple of Days. Moreover—and this may make this a quadruple synchronicity—she had only learned of the concept of synchronicity a month before in one of her psychology courses, and had yesterday arrived at her parents’ house to find the word SYNCHRONICITY written in all-caps across the dry-erase board in her parents’ kitchen. Her father, it seems, had heard about it on a radio show and wanted to remind himself to read more about it.
So what does this all mean? I originally intended this closing paragraph to be a philosophic summation of what synchronicity implies, but I deleted it. The prose was stilted anyway, and as I sat here writing the summary in my favorite coffeehouse, should it really surprise anyone that I Am the Walrus came on the stereo?
Don’t you think the Joker laughs at you?
Ho Ho Ho Hee Hee Hee Ha Ha Ha…
***
Tony Vigoito’s latest novel, Nine Kinds of Naked, explores the theme of synchronicity. If you’d like to read a fascinating essay on how that novel came into being and more of Tony’s thoughts on synchronicity, go to:

https://www.tonyvigorito.com/
https://www.realitysandwich.com/chaos_collapse_and_synchronicity

Posted in animals, c6, dogs, trickster | 4 Comments

Misuse of Term

Posted on March 4, 2009 by Trish and Rob

I’ve noticed that the word ‘synchronicity’ is becoming mainstream, but the more mainstream the source the more I see the word misused. Writers in the mainstream media, who should know better, sometimes equate synchronicity with synchronize, as in ‘Let’s synchronize our watches.’ In other words, they use synchronicity to mean two things running parallel, leaving out the essence of ‘meaningful coincidence.’

Here’s an example from the Vancouver Sun (3/3/09):

“That view was echoed by Warren Jestin, the chief economist at Scotia Capital. He said the Canadian economy was set to contract by more than 2% this year in a recession that was unlike anything we have seen in our lifetimes because of the synchronicity of the downturn in both developed and developing countries around the globe.

“Synchronicity is something that is remarkably different than in previous periods and it’s really aggravating the economic adjustment,” Mr. Jestin said. It appears this factor may have caught the Bank of Canada off guard.
***

Jestin may know economics, but he doesn’t know synchronicity, and the journalist latched onto the term, doubling the misuse.

Now please read the next post by Jim Dee. He first expresses a clear definition of synchronicity, then provides us with a fascinating example, one that takes us into the spiritual realm. Thank you, Jim.
Rob

Posted in definition of, words | Leave a comment

Children of the Universe

Posted on March 4, 2009 by Trish and Rob

Here’s the post by Jim Dee that I mentioned above. Enjoy.
Rob

Synchronicities have long been an area of interest for me, but never more than lately. “Synchronicity” is my preferred word for describing certain events that, to me, are unquestionably meaningful beyond their base coincidental properties.

In fact, the word “coincidence” has a certain dismissive quality about it, don’t you think? Calling something a coincidence, no matter how mind-blowing it might be, instructs others to think nothing of such occurrences, to write these events off as nothing more than peculiar experiences that, aside from their entertainment value, bear neither depth nor meaning.

The word “coincidence,” to me, simply means: I cannot explain that, therefore it’s meaningless. The word “synchronicity” means: You don’t always have to explain it or interpret it. If it’s a particularly positive synchronicity, maybe it just means something general, like “you’re on the right path” — an affirmative, perhaps even appreciative, nod from the universe that, to it, is subtle beyond any measure while, to you, it’s life-altering and amazing. If there is meaning beyond the appreciative nod, you’ll know it intuitively at some point. For now, just be it, just experience its beauty.

Here’s the latest interesting “synchronicity” I’ve taken note of in my life. It happened on the same night as another momentous occasion — my one and only “out of body” experience (itself quite a tale!).

For the purposes of this synchronicity story, the only background you need to know is that something extraordinarily unusual and powerful happened to me on the evening in question. It involved something I still do not fully understand, something which can be described as astral traveling, perhaps. My soul had gone to “visit” with a guru, who later sent me into the deepest meditative state I’ve ever experienced. We’ll pick up the story there…

Just after I’d “returned” to my body (suddenly, around 3:00 a.m.) from this unprecedented journey, my wife suggested that we write down the details of what had happened. So, there we were in the dark, in the middle of the night, scrambling around for a pen and paper. None were to be found. However, I’d been reading a book called “Way of the Wizard” by Deepak Chopra, and it was still on my nightstand. So, my wife grabbed it and began flipping through the pages to try and locate one with enough blank space to write the details of my experience. She found a page and began writing as I relayed the story.

Okay, let’s rewind a bit… A while prior to this tale, my wife and I had been interviewing a relatively new friend and mentor, Kevin, for a promotional event on one of our raw food web sites, the All Raw Directory. When I say “interview,” I mean literally interviewing him — making an audio recording of a telephone conversation, the MP3 of which will be one of the “giveaways” we plan to offer with this promotion.

We’d been working with this guy for a while by then and had quickly become friendly with him and his wife, Annmarie, beyond the level of simple business stuff we’d been working on together. They’d visited our home once many months prior, and my wife had met and hung out with him and his wife again at a festival in Arizona. But, that had been the extent of our in-person interaction to date.

Anyway, during one of those interviews, Kevin told a personal story. I don’t remember it now, or what the context of it was, but I do recall vividly his saying that he has a favorite personal mantra: “I am a child of the universe and I am safe.” It wasn’t simply something he said; he actually focused on that for a while and discussed its particular significance in his life.

Prior to the uncanny spiritual experience I’d had, Kevin and Annmarie had never stayed overnight in our home. But they were in the house that night, when it happened. I didn’t tell them what had happened, but naturally, the next day, I tried reading some of the notes my wife had hastily written in the dark on that blank page of the Deepak Chopra book. It wasn’t until much later, perhaps weeks after their overnight stay, that I began to wonder what else appeared on that page. What was the subject matter Deepak was discussing on that particular page of Way of the Wizard — that page that my wife had flipped to in the dark and chosen based only on the fact that it seemed like there was enough white space to write on, that page that presented itself on the only occasion we’d had Kevin and Annmarie in our home overnight?

Ready for the hair raising finale? Here’s the quote that ends the text of that page of Way of the Wizard, just above the white space now inscribed with the tale of my mystical experience:

“In the light of trust, as it develops slowly over time, you will find that you are a privileged child of the universe, entirely safe, entirely supported, entirely loved.”

Synchronicity. Just be it, just experience its beauty.
Jim Dee
bsuwg.blogspot.com
https://greenvanholzer.blogspot.com/

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A big league omen?

Posted on March 2, 2009 by Trish and Rob

Synchronicities, if you take them seriously, can hint that we’re on the right path. But they can also serve as a warning sign, and that’s what an omen is. But it’s not a synchronicity until the omen comes to fruition.

In the following case, you might need to drop your sense of disbelief as you read this post. Jim Banholzer realizes that it’s a stretch to use a mathematical formula to find meaning in an omen, and that’s why there’s a question mark in the title above. But it’s worth considering. Jim has posted several synchronicities on this blog, including one thatg beautifully defines what synchronicity is: Children of the Universe.

The incendiary event is a truly unusual one involving the destruction of a symbol of peace. It was seen through YouTube and other media by millions. It took place 12 weeks into 2001. And then, 12 weeks before the end of the year, we went to war.

* * *
This morning I woke up thinking about baseball, and suddenly had the urge to read about 6’ 10” power pitcher Randy Johnson. I scrambled onto Wikipedia and saw he is the all-time leading strikeout king for lefties. Then I found this interesting tidbit:

(From Wikipedia)
In a freak accident on March 24, 2001, during the 7th inning of a spring training game against the San Francisco Giants, Johnson threw a fastball that struck and killed a dove. The unlucky bird swooped across the infield just as Johnson was releasing the ball. After being struck by the pitch, the bird landed dead amid a “sea of feathers.” The official call was “no pitch.”[3]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pbmwv-0cUTw[/youtube]

I remember when seeing this incident, I wondered if it was supposed to mean something larger. After all, back in those days Randy Johnson was the tallest and fastest pitcher in Major League baseball, in a sleek county, filled with a Giant’s appetite. Mr. Johnson slew this dove in the face of the San Francisco Giants -a city renowned for peacenik warriors.

In late March of 2001, the dove’s “freak accident”, was broadcast over the nation’s airwaves. Just this morning, I did some quick math and noticed that those days were exactly opposite to the time, when we first sent military troops to fight in Afghanistan, with a junkball pitch. In other words, the dove crossed the path of our fastest pitcher in the twelfth week of 2001, while political war hawks shattered our peace-doves, with twelve weeks remaining in the same year.

Footnotes:

When the St. Louis football team relocated to Phoenix in 1988, they became the Phoenix Cardinals. Since this made two birds, they eventually renamed their team The Arizona Cardinals, burying the Phoenix.

In 2001, in large part due to Randy Johnson’s pitching finesse, Arizona beat the New York Yankees in the seventh game, in a series that was delayed one week, due to 9-11.

Randy Johnson now pitches for the San Francisco Giants and currently is in spring training. He is no longer our tallest MLB pitcher. He also pitched a perfect game in his last high school appearance, which could be looked at as an omen to his opponents that he would also achieve this rare feat in the majors.

Posted in omens, sports | Tagged | 2 Comments

James Dean

Posted on March 2, 2009 by Trish and Rob

Dale Dassell sent an e-mail this evening wondering if the following story about James Dean qualified as synchronicity. The answer is yes–it’s a case of precognition, an aspect of synchronicity.

During filming of Rebel Without a Cause, Dean traded in the 356 Speedster for one of the only 90 Porsche 550 Spyders. He was contractually barred from racing during the filming of Giant, but with that out of the way, he was free to compete again. The Porsche was in fact a stopgap for Dean, as delivery of a superior Lotus Mk. X was delayed and he needed a car to compete at the races in Salinas, California.

Dean’s Porsche was numbered 130 at the front, side and back. The car had a tartan on the seating and two red stripes at the rear of its wheel well. The car was given the nickname “Little Bastard” by Bill Hickman, his language coach on Giant. Dean asked custom car painter and pinstriper Dean Jeffries to paint “Little Bastard” on the car. When Dean introduced himself to Alec Guinness outside a restaurant, he asked him to take a look at the Spyder. Guinness thought the car appeared “sinister” and told Dean: “If you get in that car, you will be found dead in it by this time next week.” This encounter took place on September 23, 1955, seven days before Dean’s death.

Posted in celebrities, death, Numbers | Tagged | 4 Comments

Chance Encounter

Posted on February 28, 2009 by Trish and Rob

Here’s one from Madison Moore that involves one of life’s major events.

I was married quite young to a man who was tall and thin with a head full of thick wavy hair and a mouth full of beautiful teeth. We did it mostly as a way to keep him from being drafted into the front lines of the Vietnam war. A few weeks later, he enlisted in the Air Force and left for basic training. I joined him in Colorado during his technical training and when he got his first assignment, I stayed with his parents in a small town in Oklahoma.

When he returned a year later, we were very different people. We were clashing and had different interests. Before he got news of his next duty assignment, I decided to move to Florida. We agreed that we would write to each other through our parents. I didn’t write. His parents moved anyway. And mine didn’t receive any mail from him. We completely lost touch with each other.

A couple years later, I investigated the possibility of divorce with an attorney. He informed me that my husband would be protected by a soldier’s and sailor’s act and that unless I actually found him, I’d have to go through a lengthy and costly process. Time marched on.

Ten years later, without a clue as to where he might be, I began to feel a strong need to complete the marriage. I thought about it frequently for a few months and finally resolved that I would make an appointment with an attorney or private investigator right after the holidays. I flew to Maryland to spend Christmas with my family. I was due to leave just before the 1st of January but my brother urged me to stay. He had a part-time job as a bouncer at a fabulous nightclub and they were having a New Year’s Eve party. My little sister was going. I changed my travel plans to join them.

As the evening wore on, the cigarette smoke began to sting my eyes. It eventually got so uncomfortable that I removed my contact lenses. Although my vision is considered “legally blind” without correction, my sister was driving and midnight was only a few minutes away. We both moved close to the door and fresh air. Three men entered the club, sweeping past us. One stopped right in front of me and looked at my face, then at my feet, then at my face. I looked down but couldn’t tell what he was looking at. He bent over slowly and appeared to pick up something not far from my shoes. When he rose, his buddies had returned to his side. He stretched out a ten-dollar bill and said “Look what I just found.”

I took in their surprised and happy faces – they were close enough for me to actually see them. I wondered if I had dropped the money and if I would have found it if I hadn’t removed my contacts. And then it hit me! The heavy-set man with the bald head had a mouth full of beautiful teeth. He was my husband!

After the shock wore off, my little sister went over and tapped him on the shoulder. “See that woman standing over there?” she asked; “That’s your wife.” Although he was looking right at me, he didn’t recognize me. I no longer wore the round, Lenonesk wire-rim glasses, the insanely short mini skirt, or the long straight hair that identified me as a flower child of the 60’s. We had some respectful conversation. He was no longer in the military. He gave me his address. We parted like two strangers having a chance encounter. I returned to Florida, filed papers with the clerk of the court, went before a judge with a witness, and got a judicial declaration of divorce.

Posted in c2, encounters, relationships | Leave a comment

Backward-running Clocks

Posted on February 26, 2009 by Trish and Rob

In the aftermath of the Oscars and accolades received by Brad Pitt and others involved in The Strange Case of Benjamin Button, a synchronicity arrived from Jim Banholzer related to clocks running backwards.

Jim has several synchronicities posted on the site, including:
Big League Omenand Children of the Universe.

Interestingly, when I mentioned the movie to Jim he wrote back that he hadn’t seen it and didn’t know it related to a backward moving clock. So that adds another level to Jim’s synchronicity, which follows:

Recently, through Facebook I made contact with an old elementary school classmate. We lived on the same street in Virginia and sometimes walked to school together. In 1968, her dad was kind enough to guide her brother and me to sell tickets door-to-door for the Boy Scout Exposition. At $1 apiece, I hawked over 100 tickets, for which the Exposition leaders gave me some prizes. The award I remember most was a state-of-the-art clock radio, by which I could set to wake me up with loud music. I thought this was cool.

In the pre-digital era, this clock had a relatively simple design: Every minute a little number would physically flip down, until the top of the hour, when the hour’s column flipped over. This radio clock woke me up diligently for 25 years, for paper routes, school and work, until January 1993 when it went haywire, the week before I left Virginia to move to Idaho. I tried fiddling with it for a few days, but never could figure out why it now ran backwards.
Finally, I gave up and threw the clock radio away. I owned better radios and if this clock didn’t work, the device was essentially useless. Plus I needed to pare down on possessions for the move. For me, the strange behavior of that clock was a metaphor marking the end of my Virginia years.

Now sixteen years later, after reading books like Michael Talbot’s Holographic Universe, I wonder if the behavior of the clock was sparked by unusually high level of electromagnetic energy, somehow related to the excitement of my Idaho move.
Or was its time just up?
* * *
I’m now reminded of another clock incident. For Christmas several years ago, a friend brought me a prank clock that ran counter-clockwise. I found the perfect place for it and that was on the basement wall at work, where the newspaper employees had to come in once a week to label papers, then bundle them for mail. It was bad enough that they had to come in so early, and frequently some would arrive tardy. Eventually there were so many no-shows and tardies that our publisher decreed that if workers arrived late, they should be punished by losing some of their vacation time.

If they were cutting their arrival time close, most would look at the clock when coming in from the dark. They were supposed to be there at six sharp and if they arrived at 5:55 and looked at the clock, at first glance, it appeared to be 6:05. Many thought they had arrived late, which gave the other co-workers a slight reason to chuckle. This clock tripped quite a few people over the years.

When I abruptly quit my job, I left behind a number of possessions and tools at the workplace, included the backwards running clock. The friend who bought me the clock occasionally did some consulting work for the newspaper and one day rescued the clock for me. He came over, sat it on my table and said, “Hey, isn’t this your time?”

I now have that clock kept in our greenhouse, filled with several other backwards thinking devices and contrarian type books.
Jim Banholzer
P.S.
When I glanced at your blog, I saw that the last post was Renie and Adam Walsh. It’s a powerful ‘coincidence’ that the man, who helped me sell those Boy Scout Exposition tickets forty-one years ago, is a retired F.B.I. agent, who now works on American’s Most Wanted with John Walsh –Adam Walsh’s father!

Posted in movies, time | Tagged | 2 Comments