Wes Barrett & He Really was his own Grandpa

 

He was young and handsome, and he had personality plus.  I don’t even remember where we first met.  We were friends for so long that I guess that it doesn’t matter.  The thing that first brought us together was a common interest in past lives & hypnotic regression.   A group of people met weekly, with a hypnotist as one of our members.  This may have been where I met him, as I think about it.  We all lived in Denver, Colorado, at the time, and not long before our groups inception, a great deal of interest was begun in past life regression by a man named Morey Bernstein. Morey was one of the owners of Colorado Fuel & Iron Works in Pueblo, Colorado, (about 120 miles south of Denver.)  He had written a book titled “The Story Of Bridey Murphy” which was about a woman he had regressed to another life in Ireland.  This book had been highly publicized, and was a very controversial subject at the time.  More controversial then Shirley McLaine’s books are today.  People in those days were just considered crazy and written off, that is until the Bridey Murphy book.  After this, everyone with a little courage, wanted to find out more.   So, our group was a popular ‘fad’ at the time.  I think you could best describe us as skeptical believers.  But our curiosity was more pronounced, than our worry about being considered “strange.”

Our group met once a week, and the hypnotist, who made his living by using his talent to help people lose weight or even then, to quit smoking, tried to hypnotize many of us, and succeeded with most.  But we had one young man named Mark Smith who seemed to be on an elevator, that didn’t go all the way to the top, in fact we all decided that he was there just to be able to feel that he had friends.  For whatever reason, he was welcomed.  Finally it was Mark’s turn to try to be hypnotized.  Any time anyone was hypnotized it was done in front of everybody at the meeting.  So when the hypnotist started with Mark, we were all surprised to see how quickly he went under.  For more than an hour the hypnotist worked with Mark.  He took him into his childhood and then beyond.  What a mind blowing experience. Now remember, I was there and I saw it.  Mark’s speech was that of a totally uneducated person, perhaps even a little retarded, with hesitation and long waits to find the words he wanted to use.  Suddenly, under hypnosis, he started talking in a lower voice range, his speech was completely different, and he was speaking as a very well educated man. In this new voice and new vocabulary, he told the hypnotist that he was a college professor, somewhere in Iowa.  He gave his name, exactly where he lived, and many other things about his former life.  When he was brought through this present life’s birth, he suddenly realized that his former life was that of his own great-great grandfather.  Now people who hear this story often tell me that this must have been stories handed down through his family, but it happened that he had been adopted at birth and they didn’t know the story.  So we had to accept it, for truth.  We all chipped in and paid one of our members to go to the place in Iowa, (this was so many years ago, that I don’t remember all of the when’s or where’s) where he said he had been born.  What a disappointment when we heard from our courier that the little town that Mark had said was his birthplace in this “other” life had burned in the late 1800′s and all records were gone.  Well, after a bit more research our representative found that before the fire the records had been moved to a larger city, and we actually found the birth record, and the death record of the man that Mark had claimed to be, while under hypnosis.  His grave was found, with a gravestone with his name

Shirley is one of us- a believer in things not seen

engraved on it.  This was my experience with ‘other life’ regression.  Fascinating to me, and to my friend Wesley, my reason for attending these sessions.

Wes and I continued to be friends through all the years of our life. When my love, who later became my husband, opened a typewriter business in Denver, I ran the office and Wes became one of our salesmen.  He was constantly in trouble doing petty things like getting tickets, mostly parking, but some moving violations, so we sent him to our office in Pueblo, where he promptly got into more automobile violations, and since he was a heavy drinker, they became more serious.  So Bernie and I spent a lot of time bailing him out of jail.  He was a great salesman and we kept him on, but he finally left our employ for a better job back in Denver, where he had his home, so I guess it was better for both of us.

After Bernie and I married, we were living back in Denver too, and we had Wes and his new wife Norma, to our home many times for dinners, parties and other gatherings.  He married a little girl from the South, who was a darling girl, and my husband enjoyed her naiveté very much.  She almost felt that we were Wes’s parents so she was trying hard to be on her best behavior.  I remember a time when she asked Bernie to pass her a baked potato from the potato dish, and he picked it up and threw it across the table.  She was totally aghast, and so very cute in her reaction.  She reminds me of some of the women on “Designing Women,” the TV show from not too long ago. Our Norma was a pleasure to know, and so much fun.  Wes brought many wonderful things into my life through all the years I knew him.

My husband Bernie and I moved from Denver, to Los Angeles in 1960. Wes and I wrote and occasionally phoned each other.  My mother passed away at a home where she lived in Denver, and when I went back to prepare her service, Wes was right there to help me.  Each time we went to Denver for a visit of any kind, Wes was always a part of our trip.  After we moved to Las Vegas, Wes visited us several times.  Our friendship never faltered.

The last time we spoke on the phone, Wes said “As soon as we hang up, write down the names of all the people that you want to have notified at your death.  I have already done it, and we are both getting older, and we never know.”  I promised him I would do that and now it seems almost prophetic .  I tried to call him several times during one whole week, and finally a lady answered his phone.  It was his daughter and she told me that he had just passed away at a local hospital.  She said, “Dad left a list for us to call when he passed, and you were at the top of the list.  It was too late for me to get there, but he knew I was there, from wherever he is, if only in spirit.  Even now, I can feel his presence, for a friendship of more then 50 years, doesn’t die with the loss of one of the members, and my memories are of the young, handsome, always in trouble rogue, who brought so much light and laughter into my life.  The addendum to my story, Wes’ daughter got my name and number when she was in Denver for his funeral.   When they visited Las Vegas, where we now live, she called me and we invited them out to our home. Now we have become friends.   I got an E-mail from her just a few days ago, and she said I think Dad would be pleased to know that out of our losing him, we found each other.  I said, believe me dear, I’m sure he is!

A Psychic well known through her ability to communicate with the dead

My second story happened right here in Las Vegas and you’ll meet a lady who will never grow old.  I call my story:

Elderly Ladies–In A House Of Ill Repute

This could be a Readers Digest story in their feature called “The Most Unforgettable Character I’ve ever met”.  For the lady I’m about to introduce you to is certainly one of the most ‘unforgettable’ in my life.

My now husband, Ted Quillin, and I had a small business in one of the indoor swap meets in Las Vegas, NV.  In one of the booths near us was a lady that I don’t think anyone would ever forget, once you got to know her.   Life to her is one opportunity after another, problems are opportunities to solve, and all of her living experiences she expresses in a positive manner, so she is a delight to be around.   She ran a little memorabilia shop with lots of ‘treasures’ such as Mickey Mouse dolls, old pocket knives that had a unique history, and interesting rocks that she collected.   It was through this ‘rock collecting’ that this story happened.

Nevada, as you know, is famous or infamous, for its legalized prostitution, but slowly, county by county, the citizens are voting to ban the houses in many areas that have previously been ‘wide open’.  A group of Senior Citizen ladies, the eldest in her late 80’s, are avid ‘rock hounds’.  My friend was about the youngest in the group of four (around 75), that she “hunted” with.  Some of their favorite places to go rock hunting, where they find beautiful rocks and Indian arrowheads, are the same areas that some of the deserted “whorehouses” still stand!  These abandoned houses were havens for our little rock hunters, for they could go up on their porches and “sit a spell” to rest their weary rock hunting bodies, and look over their find, so far that day.

On one such adventure they were all ‘tuckered’ out and wanted to rest and look over their finds, so they all gathered on the porch of one such deserted ‘house’.  They had only been sitting a short while when suddenly a car comes down the dirt road, kicking up a big dust trail behind it.  It was a long black Cadillac limo with darkened windows.  It drove up and came to a screeching halt.  An electric window was lowered and a man with a big cigar, wearing a felt fedora hat, poked his head out the window, looked over the scene before him, and yelled:  “We drove out here from Las Vegas, where are the girls’?    Our heroine looked at him with a totally innocent smile and replied, “we’re all that’s left”.  Needless to say the gentleman rolled up his electric window and left the scene very hurriedly.  But the story will never leave my walk down memory lane.

He was young and handsome, and he had personality plus.  I don’t even remember where we first met.  We were friends for so long that I guess that it doesn’t matter.  The thing that first brought us together was a common interest in past lives & hypnotic regression.   A group of people met weekly, with a hypnotist as one of our members.  This may have been where I met him, as I think about it.  We all lived in Denver, Colorado, at the time, and not long before our groups inception, a great deal of interest was begun in past life regression by a man named Morey Bernstein. Morey was one of the owners of Colorado Fuel & Iron Works in Pueblo, Colorado, (about 120 miles south of Denver.)  He had written a book titled “The Story Of Bridey Murphy” which was about a woman he had regressed to another life in Ireland.  This book had been highly publicized, and was a very controversial subject at the time.  More controversial then Shirley McLaine’s books are today.  People in those days were just considered crazy and written off, that is until the Bridey Murphy book.  After this, everyone with a little courage, wanted to find out more.   So, our group was a popular ‘fad’ at the time.  I think you could best describe us as skeptical believers.  But our curiosity was more pronounced, than our worry about being considered “strange.”

Our group met once a week, and the hypnotist, who made his living by using his talent to help people lose weight or even then, to quit smoking, tried to hypnotize many of us, and succeeded with most.  But we had one young man named Mark Smith who seemed to be on an elevator, that didn’t go all the way to the top, in fact we all decided that he was there just to be able to feel that he had friends.  For whatever reason, he was welcomed.  Finally it was Mark’s turn to try to be hypnotized.  Any time anyone was hypnotized it was done in front of everybody at the meeting.  So when the hypnotist started with Mark, we were all surprised to see how quickly he went under.  For more than an hour the hypnotist worked with Mark.  He took him into his childhood and then beyond.  What a mind blowing experience. Now remember, I was there and I saw it.  Mark’s speech was that of a totally uneducated person, perhaps even a little retarded, with hesitation and long waits to find the words he wanted to use.  Suddenly, under hypnosis, he started talking in a lower voice range, his speech was completely different, and he was speaking as a very well educated man. In this new voice and new vocabulary, he told the hypnotist that he was a college professor, somewhere in Iowa.  He gave his name, exactly where he lived, and many other things about his former life.  When he was brought through this present life’s birth, he suddenly realized that his former life was that of his own great-great grandfather.  Now people who hear this story often tell me that this must have been stories handed down through his family, but it happened that he had been adopted at birth and they didn’t know the story.  So we had to accept it, for truth.  We all chipped in and paid one of our members to go to the place in Iowa, (this was so many years ago, that I don’t remember all of the when’s or where’s) where he said he had been born.  What a disappointment when we heard from our courier that the little town that Mark had said was his birthplace in this “other” life had burned in the late 1800′s and all records were gone.  Well, after a bit more research our representative found that before the fire the records had been moved to a larger city, and we actually found the birth record, and the death record of the man that Mark had claimed to be, while under hypnosis.  His grave was found, with a gravestone with his name

engraved on it.  This was my experience with ‘other life’ regression.  Fascinating to me, and to my friend Wesley, my reason for attending these sessions.

Wes and I continued to be friends through all the years of our life. When my love, who later became my husband, opened a typewriter business in Denver, I ran the office and Wes became one of our salesmen.  He was constantly in trouble doing petty things like getting tickets, mostly parking, but some moving violations, so we sent him to our office in Pueblo, where he promptly got into more automobile violations, and since he was a heavy drinker, they became more serious.  So Bernie and I spent a lot of time bailing him out of jail.  He was a great salesman and we kept him on, but he finally left our employ for a better job back in Denver, where he had his home, so I guess it was better for both of us.

After Bernie and I married, we were living back in Denver too, and we had Wes and his new wife Norma, to our home many times for dinners, parties and other gatherings.  He married a little girl from the South, who was a darling girl, and my husband enjoyed her naiveté very much.  She almost felt that we were Wes’s parents so she was trying hard to be on her best behavior.  I remember a time when she asked Bernie to pass her a baked potato from the potato dish, and he picked it up and threw it across the table.  She was totally aghast, and so very cute in her reaction.  She reminds me of some of the women on “Designing Women,” the TV show from not too long ago. Our Norma was a pleasure to know, and so much fun.  Wes brought many wonderful things into my life through all the years I knew him.

My husband Bernie and I moved from Denver, to Los Angeles in 1960. Wes and I wrote and occasionally phoned each other.  My mother passed away at a home where she lived in Denver, and when I went back to prepare her service, Wes was right there to help me.  Each time we went to Denver for a visit of any kind, Wes was always a part of our trip.  After we moved to Las Vegas, Wes visited us several times.  Our friendship never faltered.

The last time we spoke on the phone, Wes said “As soon as we hang up, write down the names of all the people that you want to have notified at your death.  I have already done it, and we are both getting older, and we never know.”  I promised him I would do that and now it seems almost prophetic .  I tried to call him several times during one whole week, and finally a lady answered his phone.  It was his daughter and she told me that he had just passed away at a local hospital.  She said, “Dad left a list for us to call when he passed, and you were at the top of the list.  It was too late for me to get there, but he knew I was there, from wherever he is, if only in spirit.  Even now, I can feel his presence, for a friendship of more then 50 years, doesn’t die with the loss of one of the members, and my memories are of the young, handsome, always in trouble rogue, who brought so much light and laughter into my life.  The addendum to my story, Wes’ daughter got my name and number when she was in Denver for his funeral.   When they visited Las Vegas, where we now live, she called me and we invited them out to our home. Now we have become friends.   I got an E-mail from her just a few days ago, and she said I think Dad would be pleased to know that out of our losing him, we found each other.  I said, believe me dear, I’m sure he is!

My second story happened right here in Las Vegas and you’ll meet a lady who will never grow old.  I call my story:

Elderly Ladies–In A House Of Ill Repute

This could be a Readers Digest story in their feature called “The Most Unforgettable Character I’ve ever met”.  For the lady I’m about to introduce you to is certainly one of the most ‘unforgettable’ in my life.

My now husband, Ted Quillin, and I had a small business in one of the indoor swap meets in Las Vegas, NV.  In one of the booths near us was a lady that I don’t think anyone would ever forget, once you got to know her.   Life to her is one opportunity after another, problems are opportunities to solve, and all of her living experiences she expresses in a positive manner, so she is a delight to be around.   She ran a little memorabilia shop with lots of ‘treasures’ such as Mickey Mouse dolls, old pocket knives that had a unique history, and interesting rocks that she collected.   It was through this ‘rock collecting’ that this story happened.

Nevada, as you know, is famous or infamous, for its legalized prostitution, but slowly, county by county, the citizens are voting to ban the houses in many areas that have previously been ‘wide open’.  A group of Senior Citizen ladies, the eldest in her late 80’s, are avid ‘rock hounds’.  My friend was about the youngest in the group of four (around 75), that she “hunted” with.  Some of their favorite places to go rock hunting, where they find beautiful rocks and Indian arrowheads, are the same areas that some of the deserted “whorehouses” still stand!  These abandoned houses were havens for our little rock hunters, for they could go up on their porches and “sit a spell” to rest their weary rock hunting bodies, and look over their find, so far that day.

On one such adventure they were all ‘tuckered’ out and wanted to rest and look over their finds, so they all gathered on the porch of one such deserted ‘house’.  They had only been sitting a short while when suddenly a car comes down the dirt road, kicking up a big dust trail behind it.  It was a long black Cadillac limo with darkened windows.  It drove up and came to a screeching halt.  An electric window was lowered and a man with a big cigar, wearing a felt fedora hat, poked his head out the window, looked over the scene before him, and yelled:  “We drove out here from Las Vegas, where are the girls’?    Our heroine looked at him with a totally innocent smile and replied, “we’re all that’s left”.  Needless to say the gentleman rolled up his electric window and left the scene very hurriedly.  But the story will never leave my walk down memory lane.

He was young and handsome, and he had personality plus.  I don’t even remember where we first met.  We were friends for so long that I guess that it doesn’t matter.  The thing that first brought us together was a common interest in past lives & hypnotic regression.   A group of people met weekly, with a hypnotist as one of our members.  This may have been where I met him, as I think about it.  We all lived in Denver, Colorado, at the time, and not long before our groups inception, a great deal of interest was begun in past life regression by a man named Morey Bernstein. Morey was one of the owners of Colorado Fuel & Iron Works in Pueblo, Colorado, (about 120 miles south of Denver.)  He had written a book titled “The Story Of Bridey Murphy” which was about a woman he had regressed to another life in Ireland.  This book had been highly publicized, and was a very controversial subject at the time.  More controversial then Shirley McLaine’s books are today.  People in those days were just considered crazy and written off, that is until the Bridey Murphy book.  After this, everyone with a little courage, wanted to find out more.   So, our group was a popular ‘fad’ at the time.  I think you could best describe us as skeptical believers.  But our curiosity was more pronounced, than our worry about being considered “strange.”

Our group met once a week, and the hypnotist, who made his living by using his talent to help people lose weight or even then, to quit smoking, tried to hypnotize many of us, and succeeded with most.  But we had one young man named Mark Smith who seemed to be on an elevator, that didn’t go all the way to the top, in fact we all decided that he was there just to be able to feel that he had friends.  For whatever reason, he was welcomed.  Finally it was Mark’s turn to try to be hypnotized.  Any time anyone was hypnotized it was done in front of everybody at the meeting.  So when the hypnotist started with Mark, we were all surprised to see how quickly he went under.  For more than an hour the hypnotist worked with Mark.  He took him into his childhood and then beyond.  What a mind blowing experience. Now remember, I was there and I saw it.  Mark’s speech was that of a totally uneducated person, perhaps even a little retarded, with hesitation and long waits to find the words he wanted to use.  Suddenly, under hypnosis, he started talking in a lower voice range, his speech was completely different, and he was speaking as a very well educated man. In this new voice and new vocabulary, he told the hypnotist that he was a college professor, somewhere in Iowa.  He gave his name, exactly where he lived, and many other things about his former life.  When he was brought through this present life’s birth, he suddenly realized that his former life was that of his own great-great grandfather.  Now people who hear this story often tell me that this must have been stories handed down through his family, but it happened that he had been adopted at birth and they didn’t know the story.  So we had to accept it, for truth.  We all chipped in and paid one of our members to go to the place in Iowa, (this was so many years ago, that I don’t remember all of the when’s or where’s) where he said he had been born.  What a disappointment when we heard from our courier that the little town that Mark had said was his birthplace in this “other” life had burned in the late 1800′s and all records were gone.  Well, after a bit more research our representative found that before the fire the records had been moved to a larger city, and we actually found the birth record, and the death record of the man that Mark had claimed to be, while under hypnosis.  His grave was found, with a gravestone with his name

engraved on it.  This was my experience with ‘other life’ regression.  Fascinating to me, and to my friend Wesley, my reason for attending these sessions.

Wes and I continued to be friends through all the years of our life. When my love, who later became my husband, opened a typewriter business in Denver, I ran the office and Wes became one of our salesmen.  He was constantly in trouble doing petty things like getting tickets, mostly parking, but some moving violations, so we sent him to our office in Pueblo, where he promptly got into more automobile violations, and since he was a heavy drinker, they became more serious.  So Bernie and I spent a lot of time bailing him out of jail.  He was a great salesman and we kept him on, but he finally left our employ for a better job back in Denver, where he had his home, so I guess it was better for both of us.

After Bernie and I married, we were living back in Denver too, and we had Wes and his new wife Norma, to our home many times for dinners, parties and other gatherings.  He married a little girl from the South, who was a darling girl, and my husband enjoyed her naiveté very much.  She almost felt that we were Wes’s parents so she was trying hard to be on her best behavior.  I remember a time when she asked Bernie to pass her a baked potato from the potato dish, and he picked it up and threw it across the table.  She was totally aghast, and so very cute in her reaction.  She reminds me of some of the women on “Designing Women,” the TV show from not too long ago. Our Norma was a pleasure to know, and so much fun.  Wes brought many wonderful things into my life through all the years I knew him.

My husband Bernie and I moved from Denver, to Los Angeles in 1960. Wes and I wrote and occasionally phoned each other.  My mother passed away at a home where she lived in Denver, and when I went back to prepare her service, Wes was right there to help me.  Each time we went to Denver for a visit of any kind, Wes was always a part of our trip.  After we moved to Las Vegas, Wes visited us several times.  Our friendship never faltered.

The last time we spoke on the phone, Wes said “As soon as we hang up, write down the names of all the people that you want to have notified at your death.  I have already done it, and we are both getting older, and we never know.”  I promised him I would do that and now it seems almost prophetic .  I tried to call him several times during one whole week, and finally a lady answered his phone.  It was his daughter and she told me that he had just passed away at a local hospital.  She said, “Dad left a list for us to call when he passed, and you were at the top of the list.  It was too late for me to get there, but he knew I was there, from wherever he is, if only in spirit.  Even now, I can feel his presence, for a friendship of more then 50 years, doesn’t die with the loss of one of the members, and my memories are of the young, handsome, always in trouble rogue, who brought so much light and laughter into my life.  The addendum to my story, Wes’ daughter got my name and number when she was in Denver for his funeral.   When they visited Las Vegas, where we now live, she called me and we invited them out to our home. Now we have become friends.   I got an E-mail from her just a few days ago, and she said I think Dad would be pleased to know that out of our losing him, we found each other.  I said, believe me dear, I’m sure he is!

My second story happened right here in Las Vegas and you’ll meet a lady who will never grow old.  I call my story:

Elderly Ladies–In A House Of Ill Repute

This could be a Readers Digest story in their feature called “The Most Unforgettable Character I’ve ever met”.  For the lady I’m about to introduce you to is certainly one of the most ‘unforgettable’ in my life.

My now husband, Ted Quillin, and I had a small business in one of the indoor swap meets in Las Vegas, NV.  In one of the booths near us was a lady that I don’t think anyone would ever forget, once you got to know her.   Life to her is one opportunity after another, problems are opportunities to solve, and all of her living experiences she expresses in a positive manner, so she is a delight to be around.   She ran a little memorabilia shop with lots of ‘treasures’ such as Mickey Mouse dolls, old pocket knives that had a unique history, and interesting rocks that she collected.   It was through this ‘rock collecting’ that this story happened.

Nevada, as you know, is famous or infamous, for its legalized prostitution, but slowly, county by county, the citizens are voting to ban the houses in many areas that have previously been ‘wide open’.  A group of Senior Citizen ladies, the eldest in her late 80’s, are avid ‘rock hounds’.  My friend was about the youngest in the group of four (around 75), that she “hunted” with.  Some of their favorite places to go rock hunting, where they find beautiful rocks and Indian arrowheads, are the same areas that some of the deserted “whorehouses” still stand!  These abandoned houses were havens for our little rock hunters, for they could go up on their porches and “sit a spell” to rest their weary rock hunting bodies, and look over their find, so far that day.

On one such adventure they were all ‘tuckered’ out and wanted to rest and look over their finds, so they all gathered on the porch of one such deserted ‘house’.  They had only been sitting a short while when suddenly a car comes down the dirt road, kicking up a big dust trail behind it.  It was a long black Cadillac limo with darkened windows.  It drove up and came to a screeching halt.  An electric window was lowered and a man with a big cigar, wearing a felt fedora hat, poked his head out the window, looked over the scene before him, and yelled:  “We drove out here from Las Vegas, where are the girls’?    Our heroine looked at him with a totally innocent smile and replied, “we’re all that’s left”.  Needless to say the gentleman rolled up his electric window and left the scene very hurriedly.  But the story will never leave my walk down memory lane.

He was young and handsome, and he had personality plus.  I don’t even remember where we first met.  We were friends for so long that I guess that it doesn’t matter.  The thing that first brought us together was a common interest in past lives & hypnotic regression.   A group of people met weekly, with a hypnotist as one of our members.  This may have been where I met him, as I think about it.  We all lived in Denver, Colorado, at the time, and not long before our groups inception, a great deal of interest was begun in past life regression by a man named Morey Bernstein. Morey was one of the owners of Colorado Fuel & Iron Works in Pueblo, Colorado, (about 120 miles south of Denver.)  He had written a book titled “The Story Of Bridey Murphy” which was about a woman he had regressed to another life in Ireland.  This book had been highly publicized, and was a very controversial subject at the time.  More controversial then Shirley McLaine’s books are today.  People in those days were just considered crazy and written off, that is until the Bridey Murphy book.  After this, everyone with a little courage, wanted to find out more.   So, our group was a popular ‘fad’ at the time.  I think you could best describe us as skeptical believers.  But our curiosity was more pronounced, than our worry about being considered “strange.”

Our group met once a week, and the hypnotist, who made his living by using his talent to help people lose weight or even then, to quit smoking, tried to hypnotize many of us, and succeeded with most.  But we had one young man named Mark Smith who seemed to be on an elevator, that didn’t go all the way to the top, in fact we all decided that he was there just to be able to feel that he had friends.  For whatever reason, he was welcomed.  Finally it was Mark’s turn to try to be hypnotized.  Any time anyone was hypnotized it was done in front of everybody at the meeting.  So when the hypnotist started with Mark, we were all surprised to see how quickly he went under.  For more than an hour the hypnotist worked with Mark.  He took him into his childhood and then beyond.  What a mind blowing experience. Now remember, I was there and I saw it.  Mark’s speech was that of a totally uneducated person, perhaps even a little retarded, with hesitation and long waits to find the words he wanted to use.  Suddenly, under hypnosis, he started talking in a lower voice range, his speech was completely different, and he was speaking as a very well educated man. In this new voice and new vocabulary, he told the hypnotist that he was a college professor, somewhere in Iowa.  He gave his name, exactly where he lived, and many other things about his former life.  When he was brought through this present life’s birth, he suddenly realized that his former life was that of his own great-great grandfather.  Now people who hear this story often tell me that this must have been stories handed down through his family, but it happened that he had been adopted at birth and they didn’t know the story.  So we had to accept it, for truth.  We all chipped in and paid one of our members to go to the place in Iowa, (this was so many years ago, that I don’t remember all of the when’s or where’s) where he said he had been born.  What a disappointment when we heard from our courier that the little town that Mark had said was his birthplace in this “other” life had burned in the late 1800′s and all records were gone.  Well, after a bit more research our representative found that before the fire the records had been moved to a larger city, and we actually found the birth record, and the death record of the man that Mark had claimed to be, while under hypnosis.  His grave was found, with a gravestone with his name

engraved on it.  This was my experience with ‘other life’ regression.  Fascinating to me, and to my friend Wesley, my reason for attending these sessions.

Wes and I continued to be friends through all the years of our life. When my love, who later became my husband, opened a typewriter business in Denver, I ran the office and Wes became one of our salesmen.  He was constantly in trouble doing petty things like getting tickets, mostly parking, but some moving violations, so we sent him to our office in Pueblo, where he promptly got into more automobile violations, and since he was a heavy drinker, they became more serious.  So Bernie and I spent a lot of time bailing him out of jail.  He was a great salesman and we kept him on, but he finally left our employ for a better job back in Denver, where he had his home, so I guess it was better for both of us.

After Bernie and I married, we were living back in Denver too, and we had Wes and his new wife Norma, to our home many times for dinners, parties and other gatherings.  He married a little girl from the South, who was a darling girl, and my husband enjoyed her naiveté very much.  She almost felt that we were Wes’s parents so she was trying hard to be on her best behavior.  I remember a time when she asked Bernie to pass her a baked potato from the potato dish, and he picked it up and threw it across the table.  She was totally aghast, and so very cute in her reaction.  She reminds me of some of the women on “Designing Women,” the TV show from not too long ago. Our Norma was a pleasure to know, and so much fun.  Wes brought many wonderful things into my life through all the years I knew him.

My husband Bernie and I moved from Denver, to Los Angeles in 1960. Wes and I wrote and occasionally phoned each other.  My mother passed away at a home where she lived in Denver, and when I went back to prepare her service, Wes was right there to help me.  Each time we went to Denver for a visit of any kind, Wes was always a part of our trip.  After we moved to Las Vegas, Wes visited us several times.  Our friendship never faltered.

The last time we spoke on the phone, Wes said “As soon as we hang up, write down the names of all the people that you want to have notified at your death.  I have already done it, and we are both getting older, and we never know.”  I promised him I would do that and now it seems almost prophetic .  I tried to call him several times during one whole week, and finally a lady answered his phone.  It was his daughter and she told me that he had just passed away at a local hospital.  She said, “Dad left a list for us to call when he passed, and you were at the top of the list.  It was too late for me to get there, but he knew I was there, from wherever he is, if only in spirit.  Even now, I can feel his presence, for a friendship of more then 50 years, doesn’t die with the loss of one of the members, and my memories are of the young, handsome, always in trouble rogue, who brought so much light and laughter into my life.  The addendum to my story, Wes’ daughter got my name and number when she was in Denver for his funeral.   When they visited Las Vegas, where we now live, she called me and we invited them out to our home. Now we have become friends.   I got an E-mail from her just a few days ago, and she said I think Dad would be pleased to know that out of our losing him, we found each other.  I said, believe me dear, I’m sure he is!

My second story happened right here in Las Vegas and you’ll meet a lady who will never grow old.  I call my story:

Elderly Ladies–In A House Of Ill Repute

This could be a Readers Digest story in their feature called “The Most Unforgettable Character I’ve ever met”.  For the lady I’m about to introduce you to is certainly one of the most ‘unforgettable’ in my life.

My now husband, Ted Quillin, and I had a small business in one of the indoor swap meets in Las Vegas, NV.  In one of the booths near us was a lady that I don’t think anyone would ever forget, once you got to know her.   Life to her is one opportunity after another, problems are opportunities to solve, and all of her living experiences she expresses in a positive manner, so she is a delight to be around.   She ran a little memorabilia shop with lots of ‘treasures’ such as Mickey Mouse dolls, old pocket knives that had a unique history, and interesting rocks that she collected.   It was through this ‘rock collecting’ that this story happened.

Nevada, as you know, is famous or infamous, for its legalized prostitution, but slowly, county by county, the citizens are voting to ban the houses in many areas that have previously been ‘wide open’.  A group of Senior Citizen ladies, the eldest in her late 80’s, are avid ‘rock hounds’.  My friend was about the youngest in the group of four (around 75), that she “hunted” with.  Some of their favorite places to go rock hunting, where they find beautiful rocks and Indian arrowheads, are the same areas that some of the deserted “whorehouses” still stand!  These abandoned houses were havens for our little rock hunters, for they could go up on their porches and “sit a spell” to rest their weary rock hunting bodies, and look over their find, so far that day.

 

On one such adventure they were all ‘tuckered’ out and wanted to rest and look over their finds, so they all gathered on the porch of one such deserted ‘house’.  They had only been sitting a short while when suddenly a car comes down the dirt road, kicking up a big dust trail behind it.  It was a long black Cadillac limo with darkened windows.  It drove up and came to a screeching halt.  An electric window was lowered and a man with a big cigar, wearing a felt fedora hat, poked his head out the window, looked over the scene before him, and yelled:  “We drove out here from Las Vegas, where are the girls’?    Our heroine looked at him with a totally innocent smile and replied, “we’re all that’s left”.  Needless to say the gentleman rolled up his electric window and left the scene very hurriedly.  But the story will never leave my walk down memory lane.

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