Psychic Phenomena of The Weird Kind

Preamble (ramble):

Last week when I went to see a psychic in Santa Rosa, I was told that I may start noticing things in a different way. This on the heels of a conversation about me being very open to the possibility of conversing with those who have crossed over while at the same time being fully aware that I myself am decidedly un-psychic.

The Main Event:

During a telephone conversation with Bethy tonight, I was overcome with a craving for chocolate. We discussed what that could mean and I said, "Well, I MUST have chocolate! And the Sunday paper." I rarely eat chocolate and it is even more rare that I read the paper. I drove up to Colonial Liquor where I bought copies of the Independent Journal and the Chronicle and a Nestle's Crunch and came home. I can honestly say I do not remember what that candy bar tasted like. Anyway, I skimmed both papers and all I can say about THAT is apparently, I have missed absolutely nothing by not reading the papers - neither of them contained anything worthy of note (although the San Francisco paper did have an interview with California Poet Laureate Al Young - significant only because he certainly appears to have nothing to say, an unusual circumstance for a poet). The I-J was equally uninspiring until I noticed the listings of homes for sale.

I was blown away to see 36 Olive Avenue scheduled for an open house tomorrow. When we first moved to Marin in 1954 (contrary to popular belief, I am not a native - I was born in San Francisco and lived in North Beach for the first few years of my life), we lived at #4 Scott Lane, a little private road right off of Olive in Larkspur. I soon met and became best friends with Toni Kramer, who lived with her parents at 36 Olive. Toni and I had a lot in common - we were both born at Mt. Zion Hospital in San Francisco, one week apart, and through one of those weird coincidences we ended up living a few doors from each other in a completely different town. Toni and I remained good friends for several years, even after my parents bought a house in the unheard of town of Kentfield (the next town over from Larkspur but our little world was very small back then).

Anyway, I think I might go see the house at 36 Olive tomorrow and maybe leave a note for Mrs. Kramer to give to Toni. Last I heard from Toni Kramer (now Johnson) she lived in Grass Valley.

Oh! And there is another Olive Avenue connection. John Marmaduke Dawson lived at 51 Olive for many years before he retired to Mexico.

I know the jury is probably still out as to whether this is a psychic event or mere coincidence, but I have to admit it is freaky!