From January 17, 1990.
Barker Ajax wanted to meet at McDonald’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m on a low-polystyrene diet.
That’s how we came to be at Cafe Fresco on Northwest Thurman at 24th.
“There’s a sign on the counter: “Our paper products were once tall trees. Please use sparingly. Thanx.”
“Jack D., I can see the day when you’ll be asking people to carry their own cloth napkins.”
“Well, Suzuki carries his own chopsticks. Makes sense to me.”
“I don’t remember you always being so environmentally concerned,” Barker said, trying to aggravate me.
“I never expected to live this long. When I was growing up, Khrushchev was pounding his shoe on the U.N.’s lectern and World War III was going to nuke everybody but the cockroaches into oblivion.”
“And now?”
“With any luck, I could still be breathing in forty years. I could still be drinking water in 2030. I could still want to take a walk in the woods. Things change.”
“So, what’s the topic this week?”
“Well, I’m not writing about that Texas oil man in the White House, the one who pledged to make the environment a priority of his administration.”
“What has Barbara’s husband done this time?”
“Oh, it’s just more of the same. Bush is proposing to cut 80% of the budget for four energy programs. Like weatherization for low-income families’ houses. We were saving 4.5 million barrels of oil annually with that program. Another aids schools and hospitals. He’s cutting the subsidy which helps the poor pay their home heating bills.
“Meanwhile,” I continued, “he wants to drill for oil off our scenic coastlines.”
“That’s terrible. Why don’t you write about that?”
“Barker, frankly, I tired of ragging on the government. And I’m really tired of all the mail calling me some left-wing liberal lightweight who thinks the Republicans should provide handouts to everybody who’s too lazy to get a job.”
“Why sure. If the poor want to be warm, they can just move south. Pack the six kids in the back of the pickup and head for Mexico.”
“I thought I recognized your handwriting on a couple of those letters. How can they afford to leave?”
Barker smiled. “Let’em put it on their American Express.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about the Whole Life Expo. I have friends in high places who honestly believe in past lives, astrology, reincarnation, UFO’s, rotating your tires…”
Barker interrupted. “How high?”
“Norma Louise.”
“How weird was it?”
Not any more so than a Chamber of Commerce awards dinner. Just different.
Someone said – honest – “This is really far out.”
I overheard an exhibitor say, “Next year, I think I’ll drop the Reverend from my name.”
And this from a woman walking away from the Life Research Institute: “It kinda confirmed what I’ve been going through.”
The LRI, for those few who might yet be unaware, utilizes numerology to produce a relationship compatibility evaluation. The special show price is just $20 ($15 off), and they tossed in a free lucky lotto forecast with all readings. Fix your love life and win big bucks at the same time.
Or buy a book. Like You Can Have It All. Maybe You’ll See It When You Believe It. Or How To Get What You Really Want. And What You Think Of Me Is None Of My Business.
No, thanks. I think I’ll just wait for the movie.
It seems only two types of people attended the event.
Grim, serious, pale seekers. Folks who might risk $30 on the NIGHT MESSENGER CRYSTAL WAND. I’m told, “it works best when free from the influence from the solar winds… Helps to open the right side of the brain so you may more easily receive your own spiritual messages from the universal vibrations of wisdom, peace, and love… the whispering of angels.”
Or hale and hearty, clear-complexioned, smiling folks who have found what they were looking for. Answers.
This best describes the majority of the speakers. Believers. Some of whom seemed intent on debunking conflicting philosophies.
And how difficult can that be?
Somebody who should’ve known better gave me a handout. “Choosing The Right Psychic. Questions and Considerations For Effective Evaluation of Available Psychic Services.” Supposedly there are legitimate practitioners and others whose skills are questionable.
Like movie critics and weathermen. I’ve only one question for a psychic: Can I delay payment until your prediction comes true?
Jim Farrier was there. He’s the Portland psychic through whom Myissa speaks. The process is called channeling and Myissa is a two-thousand-year-old Egyptian teacher. Probably not nuclear physics or current events.
Strange nobody ever channels for a guy named Fred who used to sell door-to-door in the 1950s in Cleveland.
Biocircuitry for natural stress reduction. Pyramid energy. Biofeedback field photography. Crystal therapy. Red light healing. Super Blue Green Algae. (Brainfood from Klamath Falls.) Clairvoyant training. Alchemical bodywork. Aura reading. Cellular transformation. Face-mind mirrors.
More than enough to feed anyone’s skepticism. Unusual beliefs have a way of doing that.
Just like Oral Roberts going on television and announcing that the Lord has spoken to him and He’ll take Oral to Heaven if he doesn’t raise $8 million before March 1st.
Pass the hat. Say, Hallelujah.
The first Whole Life Expo was valuable because it challenged society’s accepted beliefs. It offered fresh solutions. Cut through the New Age smokescreen, the voodoo doodoo, and one discovered “a showcase for exploring and cultivating opportunities to improve the quality of your life.”
Seems to me we’ve reached a point where we have the most to learn from the people we’ve spent the least amount of time trying to understand.
Remember, an open mind is a terrible thing to waste.
-30-
Barker Ajax and Guido Maldemarra at the Veritable Quandary. 1990ish.