I don’t remember if I’ve ever written about this, but all my life, I’ve been good at manifesting things just when I really want or need them.

The one that really amazed me was many years ago, when I was browsing in a New Age shop on South Street.  “What album is this?” I asked the cashier. She told me the name, and then she told me what it cost. (Gulp.) I was poor, and $19 was a lot more than I could rationalize spending on an album. I really liked it — and I normally hate instrumental music.

Oh well. Back to the real world. A few months later, I was at work when a package was delivered. To me. At my job. It was a review copy of guess which album? This was especially weird since I worked at a medical newspaper, and we didn’t do record reviews.

But this only seems to work when I’m not actually paying attention. I don’t know if I could make it happen on purpose, I don’t have that kind of attention span.

  • Three different times, people have given me cars.
  • More times than I can count, readers have generously donated largish sums when I was desperate — and hadn’t even asked yet.
  • I got a lovely guitar of a type I’d been coveting when, sitting outside at a bar, a friend walked past and asked if I wanted the guitar he was carrying. Said his wife said he couldn’t get any more if he didn’t get rid of one.
  • I have had good jobs fall into my lap — when I wasn’t even looking.
  • One time, I was celebrating my birthday with a friend at an Upper Eastern Shore retaurant. I said to my friend, “I wish we could afford champagne.” (I was craving some.) The waiter came over and brought our table a bottle of champagne, with birthday wishes from “Dave.” Now, my friend Dave said he might meet us there for dessert, so we thought it might be from him. But I found that hard to believe, because he was famously cheap. So I insisted to the waiter that it was a mistake. He insisted it wasn’t. “Okay, I guess,” I finally responded. Ten minutes later, he came back to tell us it actually was all a mistake — but we were told to keep the bottle. So that worked out, sort of. Oh, and Dave never showed up.

Those are just the ones I remember. But if you ask my friends, the ones closest to me will tell you they’ve seen it. If only I could make myself win the lottery.











4 thoughts on “Manifestation

  1. I got my ’67 SG when my housemate traded a car from his wrecking yard to a dope dealer for it. I was floored. Took some work to make it the way I wanted it, but damn I loved that guitar… Lost it when they kicked my door in in East Oakland, so easy come easy go.

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