Draped in a cape and multi-colored scarves, a brown wide-brimmed hat, and all the wisdom of the ages, my dear friend of over thirty years walked toward me for our day at the museum.
We swirled in conversations about our children, now adults, their trials, their art, and new apartments. At the same time, we viewed the museum exhibits about the artifice of man, robots, and films about how governments manipulate the lives of people around the world, interjecting snippets about the pedophile president, bought by the highest bidder, beholden to dictators, who was stripping the American people of their hard-won rights.
We landed on a park bench in the sun to thaw from months of freezing temperatures, green tea and coffee in hand.
She is a self-described shaman, living in Woodstock, here to see a doctor who will help her with a medical condition. I’m taking medication for Graves’ disease -- discovered after my routine bloodwork last September.
Drink celery juice in the mornings, with lysine, my friend said, but make sure to add the lysine, because I forgot the first time. Your skin will be so clear. Oh, your skin already looks great. Aren’t we fortunate our skin looks so good at this age?
“Are these studies backed by science?” I asked her. “That ‘medical medium’ was found to be a quack, a scammer, years ago. My friend suddenly had to go. She’d finished her coffee, and she was finished telling me all about her life and administering new age remedies.
I had no patience for the unproven remedies she administered with confidence. I don’t have the patience for pseudo anything. I get my fiction when I write novels.
In this era of epic scams and cheaters, does anyone have tolerance for BS? I need truth and proven testing, the scientific method. Let’s hope this era of Trumpism dissolves all the phony everything.
And that more people find fiction in reading books.
