During the summer between graduate school and college, a friend of mine let me live in his family's unoccupied garage apartment.  It was the best summer of my life.  Working a 40-hour week at the grocery store, I saved a lot of money and even managed to date a couple of girls.  Nothing serious, of course, not with college on the horizon. 

My father had given me a book on Edgar Cayce as a Christmas present during my Senior year.  I had no idea what the book was about and I was far too busy coping with my crisis to pay attention.  However, now that I was living alone during the summer, I had time to read.  To put it mildly, I was fascinated by Cayce's story.

Edgar Cayce (1877–1945) was an American clairvoyant who claimed to speak from his higher self while in a trance-like state.  While he was unconscious, Cayce's words were recorded first by his wife Gertrude and later by Gladys Turner, his secretary.  During the trance sessions, Cayce would answer questions on a variety of subjects such as healing, reincarnation, dreams, the afterlife, past lives, nutrition, Atlantis, and future events.  Cayce, a devout Christian and Sunday-school teacher, said his readings came from the Akashic records, a compendium of all universal events, a place where all minds are timelessly connected.  A total of 14,000 Cayce readings are available at the Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach.  

Edgar Cayce was born in a small rural town near Hopkinsville, Kentucky, into a farming family.  Cayce was raised in a devout Christian environment.  Although handicapped with learning difficulties, he had no trouble reading the Bible.  Cayce was so fascinated by the Bible that he completed a dozen readings by the time he was 12.  Taking religion seriously, Cayce made sure to read the entire Bible once a year for 67 years.  My point in sharing this is to show Edgar Cayce's sterling reputation is well-established.  Perhaps Cayce was a fraud, but I doubt it seriously, not with 14,000 records available for anyone to investigate.  There have been many books written about Cayce.  They all say the same thing.  Cayce dedicated his entire life to helping people. 

After consulting the best specialists in the area, so far no one had been able to help.  Mrs. Dietrich had already given up hope when someone suggested she try Edgar Cayce and his strange trances.  The whole thing seemed like hogwash.  However, what did Mrs. Dietrich have to lose?  Her little girl was dying.  With a shrug, Mrs. Dietrich reluctantly summoned Cayce.  Unfortunately, Cayce did little to bolster Mrs. Dietrich's confidence.  Cayce was new to these trance cures and had at best a vague understanding of how they worked.  All he did was go to sleep and, upon awakening, be told what he had said during trance.  When Cayce came to the house and saw the terrible condition Aimee was in, he was alarmed.  Shaking his head in dismay, Cayce said he doubted he could help the girl.  However, when Mrs. Dietrich began to cry, Cayce was so touched, he said he was willing to try. 

(The following is an excerpt from There is a River by Thomas Sugrue) 

"When our daughter, Aimee, was two, she caught grippe," Mrs. Dietrich began.  "She recovered briefly, but then became afflicted with convulsions.  She would fall down suddenly and her body would stiffen until it was rigid.  Her mind stopped developing.  We had all sorts of doctors, but they did her no good.  We brought her home and had treatments done here, but she got worse, twenty convulsions a day sometimes.  Her mind became a blank." 

Mrs. Dietrich continued. 

"This went on for three years.  We took her to a doctor in Cincinnati.  He said she had a rare brain affliction that was fatal, so we brought her home to die.  I had given up hope when one of our friends told us about Edgar Cayce and his strange trances.  I knew Edgar and his family, so I contacted him.  When Edgar saw our daughter, he shook his head and said he did not imagine how he could help her as sick as she was.  Then with a weak smile, he said he was willing to try.  I was skeptical.  I saw how young and boyish Edgar looked.  He looked completely overwhelmed.  I thought to myself,  'How can this uneducated, backwoods farm boy be of any help to us when the best doctors in the country have failed?'  This seemed hopeless.  But when all else has failed, I figured we had nothing to lose. 

Edgar went into a trance.  In his sleep, he began to speak.  'Yes, we have the body.'  His voice seemed different, authoritative.  He said that on the day before Aimee had caught grippe, she had suffered an injury to her spine.  The grippe germs had settled in her damaged spine to cause the attacks.  He then told exactly where the lesion was and gave instructions for correcting it.  I gasped.  Edgar could not possibly have known about the injury to her spine!  I alone knew of it.  The day before Aimee caught the grippe she was getting out of the carriage.  She slipped and struck the top of her spine on the carriage step.  She jumped up as if unhurt, so I thought no more of it.

We began the treatment described by Edgar.  At the end of the first week, Aimee's mind began to clear up.  Soon she called me by name, then did so with her father as well.  Her mind picked up just where it had left off three years ago!  There was never any more trouble.  Today Aimee is a normal girl of 15.  It was a miracle.  I don't know what this strange ability is, but so far as we know, it always works.  Edgar Cayce is certainly no charlatan.  He is one of the pillars of the Christian Church, and so far as anyone knows he has never taken advantage of anyone.  In fact, it is the other way around.  Knowing that he does these readings at no charge, people are always taking advantage of Edgar' good nature and generosity." 
   

Perhaps my Readers are curious why I have inserted Edgar Cayce into my saga.  It is not my intention to convince anyone that Cayce was the real deal.  I certainly think he is, but I prefer to avoid the soapbox.  What is important is that Thomas Sugrue's book intrigued me so much, I spent the entire summer thinking about the five 'suspected' Supernatural Events that took place during my final days at St. John's.  I was not totally convinced of anything at this point, be it the existence of God, the existence of Fate, or the existence of the Hidden World.  However I was definitely curious.  Very curious.

October/November , 1968, freshman year at johns Hopkins

KISSES SWEETER THAN WINE
 

During the past summer, I tried to make sense of my series of five Supernatural Events.  However, I forgot all about them when college began.  As advertised, Johns Hopkins was the Land without Women.  Fortunately I discovered a women's college north of Hopkins known as Goucher.  Wit my confidence bolstered by Prom Queen Cheryl, I was determined to look for a girlfriend.  Thanks to owning a car, I made regular visits to Goucher, the Land without Men.  These were not ordinary women.  They were rich girls, some of them debutantes.  They were the perfect counterparts to the best and beautiful young ladies of St. John's.  Relieved of the Poor Kid stigma that had haunted me at St. John's, I saw these fetching girls as my chance to make up for lost time in high school. 

I met Emily in October.  We hit it off immediately and began dating.  Emily was a sweetheart.  Full of warmth, Emily was a brown-eyed beauty with honey-brown hair and a smile to match.  Of all the girls I met during my first semester at Hopkins, Emily reigned supreme.  Poised, graceful, charming, full of laughter, Emily was a jewel.  She reminded me of those elegant St. John's girls, so lovely, so confident. 

Emily reminded me so much of Aunt Lynn, the kindest woman I had ever met.  Emily was witty, outgoing, very down-to-earth.  I was so excited.  There was no doubt that Emily really liked me.  She did not hesitate when I asked if she wanted to drive down to Northern Virginia for the weekend in mid-November.  I wanted her to meet Aunt Lynn and Uncle Dick.  They lived in McLean, Virginia, an affluent community integrated into a sprawling forest spread over rolling hills.

To our delight, it was snowing heavily when we arrived.  All bundled up, Emily and I took a long romantic walk through a stunning snow-covered forest.  Complete with hills, abundant trees, and cobblestone bridge across a rocky creek, the setting could not possibly have been more beautiful.  The silence was amazing.  The only sound was water trickling over rocks in the stream.  Hand in hand as we walked alone in Winter Wonderland, Emily exclaimed with joy when we discovered a thriving deer population.  We used stepping stones in the narrow stream to get closer.  The deer had no fear of us.  They barely looked up as we passed by leaving deep footprints in the snow.  Emily was so happy she could hardly stand it.  Her only regret was forgetting her camera to capture the moment.

Emily was in no hurry to leave, so I made sure our winter walk lasted forever.  Just the two of us.  Rolling in the snow with Emily, we embraced and shared kisses sweeter than wine.  Following our incredibly romantic encounter, I was in love with my very first girlfriend. 

Then came a discouraging word.  On the phone a few days later, Emily said something very unsettling.  "Rick, sometimes I worry that you like me too much."  What was that supposed to mean?  Due to my lack of high school dating experience, at the time I had no idea what I had done wrong.  In hindsight, I suppose Emily was trying to warn me to lighten up a bit.  I suppose I was guilty of smothering her.  What a shame.  I had the talent to attract Emily, but not the experience necessary to keep her. 

It did not help that I fell victim to an especially cruel stroke of Fate, a "Freak Occurrence".

Eric was a Hopkins sophomore I met one night at Goucher, the nearby women's college.  Surprised to run into another Texan so far from home, Eric was a friendly, "glad to meet you"-type of guy.  Naturally we started talking.  We grinned at the realization we knew some of the same girls.  However, it did not take long to catch on that Eric was far better at meeting girls than me.

As we talked, several young ladies dropped by to say hello.  I quietly took notes as Eric made them feel like the most special woman since Eve.  After they left, Eric asked if I wanted to see his car.  The car was parked right outside the woman's dorm.  I gasped when I saw it.  It was a Mustang GT, the hottest car on earth, symbol of power, a four-wheeled babe magnet.  I quickly realized why it was sitting there.  Any time Eric met a girl he liked, he would invite her to see his car, maybe go for a ride.

As Eric chatted about how his father bought him this car as a graduation present, I realized he was the spitting image of my wealthy classmates from St. John's.  Same rich kid swagger, same take-it-for-granted confidence born of privilege. 

Unlike me, Eric was fearless around women.  I suppose he gained his confidence from years of repeated success.  Noting Eric was by far the smoothest guy I had ever met, I felt totally out-classed.  Good grief, he could have any girl he wanted.  And so the demons of my St. John's Past gnawed at my confidence.  All those years of feeling socially inferior to prep school lads like Eric came rushing back. 

Ten days before Thanksgiving break, Emily called me at the dorm.  She could not keep our date for the upcoming weekend due to an unexpected project at school.  To soften the blow, Emily suggested we get together early next week.  I was crushed of course, but accepted her story at face value.  In retrospect, this was a classic bullshit excuse.  However, since I never dated in high school, how was I supposed to know?  When it came to girls, I was flying blind.  No one had ever told me that girls fib sometimes. 

Three days later, it was Saturday morning, the same day I had been scheduled to see Emily.  I was in my room studying when I heard a knock on my door.  It was Jake, another Freshman in the dorm.  Jake needed an emergency lift to the Baltimore train station.  Jake had decided at the last minute to go home to New York for the weekend.  After a quick phone call, Jake realized there was just enough time to catch the next train.  Since I was one of the few boys in the dorm with a car, Jake asked if I would help.  For $5 gas money, could I give him a ride?  Thanks to Emily's cancellation, I had nothing better to do.  I said sure, let's go.  Just as we arrived at the Baltimore train station, I was dumbfounded to see Emily and Eric get out of a cab only four cars ahead.  Stunned by the bizarre Unreality of the situation, I blinked once, then I blinked a second time.  Unfortunately, my eyes did not deceive me.

This cannot be happening! 

From a distance of 30 feet, I stared in stupefied horror.  The cab driver retrieved two suitcases as Eric and Emily watched.  This was the Coincidence of all Coincidences.  With so few cars between us, I suppose their taxi had arrived perhaps a minute or two ahead.  Who knows, maybe they were there to catch the same train as Jake.  Seeing me entranced, Jake dropped $5 on the seat, grabbed his bag and closed the door.  Jake may have said thanks, but how would I know? 

All I could do was watch in disbelief as kind, sweet, beautiful Emily plunged a dagger deep into my heart.  She need not have bothered.  My heart had stopped beating the moment I saw how happy Emily was to be with Eric. 

I will never forget Emily's laughter.  With my window rolled down, I was close enough to hear.  I also knew that look.  I had seen that same look the day we spent together in the snowy woods of Northern Virginia.  Now that Eric was the recipient of Emily's adoration, I was consumed with overwhelming jealousy. 

The pain was blistering. 

It was apparent Emily had broken our date to go somewhere special with Eric.  Where would their train take them?  New York maybe?  Dinner at an expensive restaurant?  Catch a play?  Walk through Central Park?  Drink some wine, share a hotel room?  Maybe share a bed?  Who knows.  The only thing I knew was the agony I felt over Emily's betrayal.  Emily had lied so she could be with Eric.  This was not a fair fight.  Head to head with the Smooth Operator, I had no chance.  Given that I had very little money, I could never afford to spring for an expensive adventure of this caliber.  I had just lost my very first girlfriend to a guy I could never hope to compete with.

Eric and Emily were so wrapped up in each other, they did not see me.  Filled with anguish, I watched them disappear into the train station.  I was reeling as I drove back to Hopkins.  This unexpected revelation ripped me to shreds.  Of course I had been disappointed when Emily broke our date earlier in the week.  That really stung.  However that ache was nothing compared to the searing pain I felt now.  I had known all sorts of heartbreak throughout childhood, but this was equal to the worst.  The only time I had ever felt this kind of hurt before was the night I had to tell my beloved dog Terry that I was leaving him to go to college.  My dog had devoted his entire existence only to see me abandon him.  Now that Emily had abandoned me, I knew just how Terry felt.  I was devastated. 

After spotting Eric and Emily at the train station, I staggered back to my room and collapsed on my bed.  I felt so helpless.  Why did it have to be Eric?  Anyone but him.  Sad to say, Eric's superiority had attacked my deep-seated feelings of inferiority, the most vulnerable spot in my psyche.  Losing Emily to the rich kid marked the return of the Creepy Loser Kid, the sad, lonely, socially awkward boy in high school.  Devastated, I could not stand to be alone, so I called Aunt Lynn and told her what happened.  She insisted I drive down immediately.  Thanks to her, I was able to overcome my immediate grief enough to carry on.  However, the damage was permanent. 

Not only did the Epic Losing Streak claim its third victim, Emily became the enduring symbol of my futility with exceptional women.