Genetics

Coney Tarot
Originally uploaded by wzrdreams

My mom was very interested in my tarot reading from a few weeks ago. She wanted a psychic reading for herself by the same people, so I agreed to go with her. We met up this morning and had breakfast down the street from the place. As I'm sipping my OJ, we are talking about psychic readings in general. My mom has always been fascinated by it and so not surprisingly, I have been as well. She told me some interesting stories about psychics she's visited in the past. Not too many, but a couple seemed on the level in terms of relating specific information about her during the reading (and being right about the future in some cases). She also, as an aside, mentioned that my great-grandmother (the mother of my grandma with the cookbooks) did tarot card readings to make extra money in Cuba. Hello? How did this little tidbit of history get put aside for the 31 years I've been alive? So cool! I should be used to it by now, I find out new things like this all the time. My grandmother never believed her mother had psychic ability. She figured it was a good way for a single mom in the thirties to make some money. But I wonder...

My mom has had some semi-psychic moments. Most moms have an "eyes in the back of my head" kind of foreknowledge, based primarily on studying their kids so intently that they know what they are going to do before they do it. But for my mom, there's a little more going on. She just knows things. For instance, in my younger days, I was driving home from Fullerton (when I lived at home) very late and after a few cocktails. So stupid and unsafe. I was extra cautious, going 60 mph (this was back in the day when the limit was 55 mph) so it didn't look too perfect, but also not crazy fast. As soon as I got past the 71 freeway on the way to Corona, I was getting very tired. That's when I noticed there was a cop on my tail. I don't know how long he had been there, but I do know that he followed my ass all the way until my exit and then sped off. It was nerve wracking, but it also kept me from dozing or swerving or doing anything but pay attention to my driving.

The next morning, my mom commented on how late I'd gotten home the night before. She always waited up. Always. And she worried. Always. But she said that she must have fallen asleep at some point because she'd had a dream that she was worried about me coming home so late and a cop came to her and told her "Don't worry, I'm watching out for her." Yeah. I dropped my spoon right into my cereal and looked at her with giant eyes. I still get weird fluttery belly feelings thinking about it. Stuff like that happens to her periodically. I had been contemplating putting a star on the back of my neck as my very first tattoo when I was 20, and not two minutes later did I get a call from my mom telling me she was watching the news and she saw a chola with a tattoo on her neck. "Please tell me you wouldn't do that, would you? Se ve tan feo (It looks so ugly)." So I put it on my ankle instead.

This power has yet to yield lottery winnings, but it's fascinating. Wouldn't it be cool if great-grandma was the real deal? And it is a hereditary thing? Regardless, I bought a tarot deck on the way home. When the revolution comes and all the lefty professors are sent out to pasture, I can rely on my trusty tarot deck to get me through the tough times.