A Grim Future

This Saturday afternoon as I’m cleaning up the kitchen, son David is eating soup and watching the kitchen T.V.: one of those Discovery Channel shows about Nostradamus, Edgar Cayce, and other prophets of doom and gloom who always bum me out, because what are you going to do about it? For example, Cayce predicted that the Earth’s axis would shift, causing, well instant death to just about all who are lucky. Right after this news, the voiceover states that Cayce thought we could influence these predictions. I said, “How are we going to keep the Earth’s axis from shifting? Are we all going to agree to lean in a certain direction? Will we all wear one weighted shoe?” The apocalyptic scenes continue. “That’s it!” I declare as I throw my dish cloth in the air. “To hell with everything. Why should I clean when this mess is on the way? I’m not even going to brush my hair today. What’s the point?” David grins but ignores me, which is totally understandable.

Anyway Edgar Cayce eventually had a stroke from the stress of doing too many readings for people, which depleted his energy. We are told he was buried in a cemetery in his home state of Kentucky. Then the commentator says, “You can’t put Edgar Cayce in a box and label it prophet. You can’t put him in a box and label it scientist. You can’t put him in a box and label it . . .”

“But they did put him in a box didn’t they?” I intervene. “Is he saying that they put him in an unmarked grave? Why didn’t they just label it Edgar Cayce?” Then I laugh, because I’m self-amusing. I have to be, because I rarely amuse others.

David finally looks at me and says, “You’re dead inside aren’t you?” We both think that’s pretty funny.