Adventures of an Eccentric: A Series of Short Stories

By Janet D. Porter

ABOUT THIS BOOK
Thriller doesn't describe it! People live all sorts of lives but few as exciting as portrayed here. The author's short stories go from entertaining murderers and gang members to scary dating moments with a potential rapist; only to find love with someone she met 300 years prior. Sharing her work as a psychiatric social worker gives us many real life experiences one can only hope to avoid in one's own life. Yet some situations are encouraging as she helps others survive.
The details of her descriptions are amazing as she paints us pictures so vivid we can shut our eyes and see the little gray sausage-like curls and round steel framed glasses on Mrs. Waddell.
Whoever wrote a poem about MY ZIT?
Different times in history are clearly described from when the little lady of the plantation threw the Yankee soldier over the fence to land in a mud puddle surrounded by snorting pigs.
What does one do when facing the jagged glass ends of a broken beer bottle handled by a furious man 6'3" tall?
Who ever dared to foster a former heroin pusher?
Does anyone in your family vividly remember the details about our perspective of WWII? The author lived in the only city in the U.S. that housed an active army Overseas Replacement Depot. She even remembers the blue cellophane that covered the flashlights of the Air Raid Wardens.
This writing covers: humor, adventure, religion, history, law, education, philosophy, psychology, parapsychology, parenting, drama, and much more.
Call her crazy: call her eccentric. She lived, loved, DARED, and wrote to tell about it.
You will enjoy plenty of laughs!
R. Charles Guenther, retired school administrator

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781546257639

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© 2020 Janet D. Porter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/06/2020

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5765-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-5763-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018911278

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter #                        Name Of Chapter

I Dedicate This Work To:

Prologue

01.The Past

02.Greensboro, North Carolina Background Through Age 3 ½

03.The Neighborhood And The People In It

04.Our Yards, House, And Special People

05.Happenings In The House Interactions And Important Lessons

06.My Education And Social Experiences Through High School And Other Special Events

07.The Farm In The Country

08.Wwii 1941-1945 Greensboro’s Perspective

09.Church—A Vital Factor In My Early Life

10.Bachelor Of Arts From Duke University (1952-1956)

11.The Summer Tour In Europe 1955, Age 21

12.Practice Teaching And Irving (1955)

13.Master Of Education In Chapel Hill, N.C. Teaching For 2 Years In Durham, N.C.

14.Married & Teaching In University City, Mo

15.Beginnings In San Bernardino, California

16.Working With People In San Bernardino Jim & Tom

17.San Diego, Ca April 1970-June 1972

18.Kalamazoo, Michigan The Professional Part Of Our Lives

19.Kalamazoo, Michigan The Social Part Of Our Lives

20.Leesburg, Florida Choosing The Right Place 2001-Feb. 2020

21.Updates

22.Original Creative Writings

23.Other Original Poems

Epilogue

I DEDICATE THIS WORK TO:

My incredible husband, Loren Porter, my soul mate, who has patiently understood, supported, and loved me.

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My wonderful sons, Jim and Tom Allen, and their families, whom I love very much.

My Father, Herman Davis, who taught me, by example and word, almost everything worthwhile about living that I ever learned.

I GIVE SPECIAL RECOGNITION TO:

Miss Jessee Peden, my junior high English teacher in Greensboro, N.C., who was the first to encourage my writing and suggest that I try poetry.

Ms. Mary Anne Revell, my creative writing teacher at Lake Sumter College in Leesburg, Florida, who inspired me and suggested that I have some things published.

Mr. Kevin Beauregard, my computer teacher and friend, who faithfully came to my home, and without whom, none of this would have been possible.

Ms. Mary Masters, my friend and hairdresser for many years in Leesburg, Florida. She suggested the title of this book. Since she has known me so well, she uses the word Eccentric to describe me. She reassures me that she means eccentric to be in a positive way, and says she likes that I am different from most people in a number of ways. Now I like that definition.

Ms. Sonya Rosenglick, an instructor and technology trainer in Eustis, Florida, and a really good friend, who physically prepared this work for publication.

Friends in Royal Highlands who gave me help with this book: Art Roberts; Camille Hudson; and Chuck Guenther.

PEOPLE WHO GAVE ME MUCH

NEEDED SUPPORT:

Miss Margaret Rankin, my grandmother figure, known to me as Unk.. She owned the building in which our family lived until I was three. She loved me and I loved her so very much! She was my Best Friend and confident.

William Mason and his parents, who always treated me with kindness and love. He was like a brother, and I always loved and respected him. He helped me be perfectly comfortable with boys and men. He showed me the meaning of caring and compassion. All three showed me what it felt like to be treated with dignity and respect. My parents left me with this family when they traveled.

Shepherd Lambert, was married to my mother’s oldest sister, Susie. They had no children. I spent uncalculatable days with them in the country from the time I could take care of myself until I went to college. I was always happy to be where I was relaxed and had no stress or criticism.

Uncle Shep was like a grandfather figure to me. treated me with kindness, patience, and interest. He talked with me as a friend and a worthwhile person. I followed him around most of the time and he taught me all about running the large tobacco farm and dairy. I loved him very much.

OTHER SPECIAL PEOPLE who made a positive difference in my life: Marietta; Jack; Dee; Lila; Wayland; Winn; Mildred; and Irving.

I will always be thankful for them and remember them with love.

PROLOGUE

THE PURPOSES OF THIS, MY

GIFT TO YOU, ARE TO:

1. Entertain and amuse

2. Give you some poems you may copy, sign with your name, and give to others as gifts

3. Tell some true historical facts that are generally unknown

4. Reveal how I was able to cope in unexpected and dangerous situations

5. Explain how my past lives affected this life

6. Present some situations and lessons that can be used by you in the future

7. Offer short stories about special individuals

This book is presented, generally, in chronological order.

CHAPTER 1

THE PAST

LIVES I LIVED BEFORE AND

HOW THEY AFFECTED THIS LIFE

PLUS 2 HISTORICAL FACTS

AT THE INN

There was still a slight chill in the spring air. Two young men could be seen in the dusky twilight as they leaned against their horses that were drinking the refreshingly chilly water from the trough in front of the inn/tavern. Both travelers were hungry and bone weary from riding most of the day. This inn, near Salisbury, was about halfway toward their destination.

Jeff remained with the packed horses while Will sauntered inside to seek repast. A small fire sent a welcoming glow over the paneled tavern where a couple of men were in serious discussion at a table against the opposite wall.

From the rear bar area rang out a surprisingly hearty male welcome, Greetings, Sir!

At this late hour, might we be so fortunate as to still get something to eat, for we have had only two apples for the last six hours?

Indeed. It just so happens we still have the butt of a roast, some potatoes and cabbage, and, as always, plenty of fine ale!

Another hopeful question, Good Sir? Might ye have left a bed for the night?

Luck is surely yours tonight, as room number four has been vacated, and the bed is a good one too.

Taken! I’ll go inform Jeff. Have ye a boy to stable the horses and bring in the packs?

Aye again, Sir.

Choosing a square table by the small fireplace and opposite the seriously discussing men, Will poured himelf onto the welcoming bench by its table to await his companion.

Jeff arrived, first expressing his thankfulness that food was on the way, and then informing Will that he needed the facility out back, and would return shortly.

Shyly leaning around the kitchen door, a fair and slim young woman with brown hair reaching to her waist eyed the lone stranger to whom she was expected to deliver the food.

Her eyes instinctively widened.

One could easily guess that the gentleman was probably in his early 20s. With an athletic build, his unusually broad shoulders pressed against his cobalt shirt just below his thick mane of blonde hair. Not realizing it, she was holding her breath, and was literally staring at big blue eyes, a perfectly proportioned nose, and even white teeth over the clef in his square chin.

Ohhh, she gasped, almost silently.

Almost simultaneously, the gentleman felt a strange lump in his throat when he noticed her large hazel eyes, delicate nose, unblemished skin, and pearl-like teeth surrounded by full crimson lips. Quite unexpectedly his heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly felt a surge of unexpected energy after spending a hard day on horseback. Their eyes locked for an unfathomable length of time as they gazed directly into each other’s eyes. Each knew instinctively that the evening to come would be interesting.

Exhausted, Jeff was already snoring peacefully as Will crept toward the stairs. Each of the eight steps creaked all the way to the top, where the gray wooden door was standing ajar. Slowly elbowing into the small room, lighted only by the flickering candle that graced the round center table, Will breathed in a hint of woodsy perfume and took notice of the white sheets on a single bed by the wall. On the opposite wall, he noticed four pegs holding homespun frocks: maroon, saffron, moss green and azure.

Aided by the moonlight coming through the only window, he beheld the young woman with flowing hair who pleasantly enhanced her thin white gown. He blew out the candle.

The next morning after a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs, and brown bread slathered with thick butter, Will and Jeff re-packed their horses, paid the innkeeper and prepared to leave.

After carefully perusing the big room at length, Will discovered the lady folding napkins on a back table. Their gazes burned, but neither had the nerve to say a word. He nodded. She blinked and nodded back. Each haltingly turned away, and then he was gone.

About three years later it was spring again at the inn. Jeff and Will each sported stubble, and this time, entered the tavern boldly. Earlier in the evening than before, they confidently approached the inn keeper asking for dinner and, again, for a bed or room. Pleasant accommodations were available on both accounts.

During the meal, a small little girl, about two years old, joyously played with a kitten around a table near the fireplace. She looked up at the newly arrived men and graced them with an unexpected shy smile. How big and blue were her eyes! How thick and yellow her hair! Where was her mother?

Not long to wait, the attractive innkeeper’s daughter with long brown hair appeared from the kitchen. Both she and Will froze completely. Jeff remained very unaware of anything unusual occurring. Again, after Jeff was asleep and the stairs mounted, Will dared again to push open the slightly opened door. This time he gingerly sat on the edge of a chair by the round table holding the single candle.

Silence - long uncomfortable silence preceded the much welcomed but lengthy discussion.

Three years had brought well-earned business growth and continuously increasing aspirations to Will and his partner. Three years had brought a darling and much loved daughter to the lady. Each conscious examination she made of her lovely child had delivered the dual emotions of wondrous gratitude and painful, unfulfilled longing.

There were no questions asked. All was beyond obvious.

Will was in no position, nor had he the desire, to change his single and roaming, but exceedingly profitable lifestyle. She occupied a safe and secure lifetime job around kind and supportive neighbors and family. Her daughter delighted in adoring grandparents and aunts and uncles, as well as in the normal attention of amused visitors at the inn. No future was ever mentioned. The following morning the horses, held by the stable boy, were already loaded by the fountain in front and were ready to go. Jeff was stuffing two large fresh rolls into his knapsack for their mid-morning repast. The innkeeper, holding the hand of his little granddaughter, and the little girl’s mother all went outside to say goodbye to the two jovial travelers. Motioning with his head for the lady to follow him and step behind the others, Will opened her hand, and into it he pressed a rather heavy leather bag, carefully tied at the top. He looked deeply into her eyes, then kissed her on the forehead before joining the little group to leave with his companion forever. (Or was it to be forever?)

Alone upstairs, the bag revealed valuable gold coins. Realizing that she would probably never see him again, she felt her heart break as she fell on her bed sobbing.

Often when looking at her blond, blue-eyed little daughter, there was a brief, sharp stab of pain in her heart. Nothing could be the same again.

HOW AT THE INN PAST LIFE REGRESSION HAD A POSITIVE EFFECT ON THIS PRESENT LIFE

AT THE INN writing was taken from a past life regression under hypnosis that was conducted by a professional in Kalamazoo, Michigan, in 1993. Immediately after the regression, I took notes of what I remembered, and kept them. From the clothing, setting, and my past studies of history, I guessed the time to have been in the 1600s, and the place to be near Salisbury, England.

The first day we met in this life was in 1970, in San Diego, California. Will in this life, is named Loren. This time we were married to others. We both divorced and married each other in 1972. See this story of our meeting again in the Chapter San Diego entitled, THREE HUNDRED YEARS LATER.

From the time I met him this time, I felt a panic that he would leave me. For years during our happy and faithful marriage, from 1972-1993, I could not think of any reasonable basis for that continuous extreme fear.

Soon after I experienced that hypnotic regression in 1993, I traveled to Richmond, Virginia, to attend a seminar with a famous psychiatrist. There I told her about the regression. She explained to me that the basis of this life’s fear that Loren would leave me was a carryover from our previous life when he did leave me forever. When she validated the reason for that fear, at last, I was, finally and forever, able to let go of that fear. That total situation was proof enough for me that past lives do cause an effect on present lives.

ABOUT THE STORY OF A YOUNG PIRATE

The year was uncertain, but the speech indicated a definite time and place in history. Apparently, it was near one of the coasts in England. It is written as visualized, then a teen-aged lad. I am talking almost entirely to The Captain of the pirate ship I had been on for about a year.

At the end, I am talking to you, The Reader.

Note: there will be no quotation marks around the speech of the young pirate. Quotation marks will be used only for the words of others.

AS A YOUNG PIRATE, MY STORY

Good evenin, Sir Captain. I sure thank ye for takin yer time to speak with me alone, Sir. It was real nice of Baldy to arrange this for me. He says you noticed me, and that I should tell you something of meself afore I be askin ye a faver.

With me bein the oldest, me next youngest brother is now big enough to hep me pa. I tol the family one evenin that I think I be ready to go out and earn me way in the worl so as to be one less mouth to feed. Me ma was scared for me, sayin it’s a bigger worl than I know, but finally she and Pa agreed.

She fixed me a bundle with me clothes. I didn’t need many clothes when helping on the farms around.

So early one morning, about a year ago, she gave me a good breakfast, and, crying, saw me off. I will always remember seein her wavin her handkerchief in the distance as I started walkin.

I was tryin to ignore the lump in me throat, an I didn’t want to admit I was really scared. I had only one small coin, which me pa said I would need until I could find work.

Trudgin along barefoot in the dust, it seemed like forever, an I was getting really tired, when an old wagon, loaded with hay, pulled up beside me. The farmer asked me where I was goin, so I tole him I was goin to town to seek me fortune. He said to hop on, an that I was welcome to ride with him.

Me stomach was really growlin by the afternoon. I thought if I could find a tavern, I might be able to earn something to eat, and maybe even a place in a bed for the night.

Thankin the wagon driver, I headed for the nearest tavern, which was along the waterfront.

Bein unfamiliar with the place, and not knowin what to expect, I slowly entered the tavern, and set me bundle on the closest chair.

From bright sunshine into the unlit buildin, it took a while fer me eyes to adjust to the dimness. This was a brand new experience, so I sat on a nearby stool and was jus lookin aroun to get me bearins.

After a short time, a not very scary man came up to me. Lad, he said, Noticin ‘ yer bundle, I figure you must have jus come to town. Is that so?

Yes, Sir, I answered.

He went on, How about we sit together for a little while an have a bit of a talk. I’ll bet you must be hungry, too?

He motioned for me to sit across a table from him and ordered us both a bowl of porridge and some brown bread. He said we could share a small flagon of ale.

You look like a fairly strong young man, and tall, but kind of skin and bones.

Well, Sir, to tell you the truth, this is me first day out in the worl comin to seek me fortune. Me next brother is old enough now to hep me pa, so with me family’s blessing, I jes set out this very morning.

Well, ain’t that a good son of ye, and brave too! Be you willin to listen to a little proposition?

Well, yes, Sir.

I come off yonder adventure ship which will be sailin’ at dawn, and we could use a lad like you to help keep our decks clean, and do some other odd jobs. How do you feel about a little blood?

Since I been pitchin hay fer years, the swabbing don’t sound too hard, and after killin pigs, well, blood is blood.

"I thought you might be interested to know we’ve got one of the best cooks on the seas, and our captain is a good man too, very saparin’ of the Cat.

(Cat-of-nine-tails, used in whipping for punishment.)

Your hammock would be at the bottom, but most of us sleep on deck when the weather is decent. As I said, Cookie puts out three good meals a day. He would put some meat on your bones in no time at all. "Since you ain’t got no other plans, how does it sound to you, Boy?

A bit of an adventure? Egh? A way to see the world and get paid for it too! Brand new in town, and already offered a job! Ain’t this your lucky day!"

He seemed real nice, so-s I said, Well, I ain’t got nuthin to loose, so I’ll give it a try.

Then he led me up the plank, and I tried not to notice the men starin at me.

He showed me my hammock and where to put me stuff, then said, I think I’ll sign you to Baldy. I once heard he had to leave a son behin’ a long time ago. He might jes like havin’ a young-un aroun’ to help out. Next he took me up deck and over to a rather kindly lookin man with no hair and a scruffy brown mustache. Baldy, this here’s my new recruit, an I think you’d be a good un to take him over and teach him all he needs to know. He’s a green un, but I’ve seen how you seem to be good with people, so, hows about it, Baldy?

Baldy drew in a long deep breath, and held it as he squarely looked me over, startin from me feet to the top of me head, spendin’ a little more time lookin at me arms an shoulders. Then he let out his breath and said, Yeah, I’ll give him a go so long as he minds good and don’t give me no sass.

With that, he gave me a slap on the back and said, What’s your name, Son?

I tole him, Me name is Johnny.

Well, from now on, yee’I be known here as Swabby. An that is how it started over a year ago.

I do want to tell ye how really good Baldy has been to me, an I’ve grown real fond of him. He is about the age of me pa, so I sometimes preten he’s me pa. He’s been given me regular lessons on how to defen meself with a cutless, he has. An he says he thinks I’m now ready to take care of meself in the world.

I jes want to tell ye about what happened the other night.

It was the first time the crew let me go to town with them. First stop was a tavern down by the warf. I wasn’t there for no particular purpose but to look aroun and to git the feelin of goin out in the world.

Well, anyway, Leg poked his head inside the tavern, and yelled to us that there didn’t seem to be nobody inside. He figured they all run out since they had seen our flag come in yesterday morning and then tonight their look-out seen the group of us walkin in their direction.

Since I really didn’t have nothing else to do, I went in anyway, and there was an old guy, sleepin drunk, who was too far gone to know the others had left.

I thought to meself, I jes wonder if he don’t have something worthwhile on him? Sos I begins poking on his body, an, damn, if there weren’t a tied up small sack. Naturally, I jes quietly lifted it, and casually walked out like nuthin.

Turnin me back in a corner outside, I peeked inside th sac, an, would you believe it? There was several gold coins along with the others! I couldn’t hardly hol me excitement! But naturally, I didn’t say nothing to nobody. It was the first gold coins I’d ever seen.

Finally, Captain, Sir, I’m here for to ask ye a question. Since I seem to be accepted now, and Baldy says I can take care of meself with me cutless, he sent me here because he said he couldn’t take the responsibility if somthin happened to me.

So, would you, ugh, would you give me permission to go aboard next time we cross to a ship" I promised Baldy I’ll be the last to cross, so by then the other crew would all be busy with our men. I’m really not scareded, Sir.

All right, Boy. You can go.

I can? Yeow! Oh, beg yer pardon, but you jes made me so happy! I’ll be real careful, and will wait til things seem well busy. Thank ye, Sir. Thanky, Captain! I’ll go tell Baldy.

JOHNNY, SPEAKING TO THE READER:

Two days later we spied a ship in the distance, an word got around that we was goin to board. That got me real excited! After all had crossed and was well into fightin, I thought it calm, an with cutless in hand, took to the plank. I’d no more’n crossed over and gone three steps when, risin up from hide’n below the plank on their ship, was this bloke, which I could not have seen. He put his left hand on me back, and with his right hand, took his knife and made a deep swarth, cutting me throat. With the blood spurtin from me throat, he bent his knees and struggled hard, twistin and draggin me, so as to heave me body overboard into the drink with the waitin sharks.

THE BENEFIT OF HAVING THIS REGRESSION

All this life before this regression, I never knew why I could not tolerate anything touching a certain area across the front of my neck. I could not wear choker pearl necklaces, nor could I tolerate covers or even water in a swimming pool touching that place on my neck. The covers or water could touch my neck higher or lower than that particular area.

After I saw my death, it no longer bothered me, nor does it still, to have anything touch my neck in that place. I can wear choker type beads. Apparently, my soul had carried that memory of my throat being slit in that particular place on my neck. When the regression let me see what happened, that aversion disappeared forever.

I WAS AN ARMY OFFICER WITH

NO COMPASSION.

As an officer in Hannibal’s army, after our army had crossed the Alps and had engaged in battle with the Romans, I was riding in my howdah on an elephant. I gazed down at the scene. There were dead and dying young men in both armies, men who had left their homes and their wives and children.

The men were groaning and moaning, with their bones broken and their guts falling out. They were dying in the hot sun with no water or help from any person, no help of any kind. Blood was everywhere.

I felt no compassion for them or for their families. I did not think of them as individual humans or even as living beings that could and did suffer pain. The fact that there was total misery did not bother me at all.

HOW THAT AFFECTED MY PRESENT LIFE

In this life, I have extreme compassion for all people and all living creatures. As an example, when I was in college, if a cockroach would enter my dormitory room, my suite-mates would laugh at me as I found a paper cup, scooped up the roach, walked to the front door of the dorm, and let it out. I figured it had just wandered in looking for food. My friends thought I was an eccentric.

I cannot kill any living creature except silver fish, flies, mosquitoes, and a very few small insects or something physically threatening me or others or which would likely propagate or carry germs. Before I do kill them, I mentally apologize to them, and then do it as quickly as possible so it will not suffer.

Once a friend in the dorm heard me apologize to a fly before I swatted it, and she remarked, I swear, Janet, I never knew anybody as weird as you. Who would apologize to a fly? A life form is something I cannot create. Why kill it unless getting rid of it is necessary?

I WAS A SLAVE AND COOK ON A

SOUTHERN PLANTATION.

I had lived happily in Africa with my husband and little son and daughter. It was hot and no one wore any unnecessary amount of clothing.

We were captured by a band of Africans who took us to the coast and sold us to slave traders. A terrible journey on a ship transpired. We were sold in a slave market in Norfolk, Virginia. My husband was sold away from us to a different master. We were taken to a large plantation and given a little hut as our home.

I was eternally grateful the master also bought my children with me, and allowed us three to live together, and permitted me to raise my own children. They missed their father, but became contented playing with other slave children. They were looked after by all the neighboring slaves while I was working.

I was assigned to be a cook in a building that was separate from the main house by a long porch. That was to save the big house in case the cook house caught on fire, which did happen occasionally at some places from the open fires inside the cook house.

I was glad a young slave teen-age boy was assigned to bring water to the kitchen from the creek. I could not have continued to carry those heavy pails of water.

I resented that I always had to work on weekends and holidays when other field slaves could be free from work. Occasionally, but rarely, I was allowed to take a day off during the middle of a week when another woman had to take my place. I had to do all the special cooking when the owners had guests.

Our master and mistress were considered by the other slaves as very good masters, compared with the stories that occasionally came about the conditions on other plantations. I was told to consider myself lucky. I will always remember when I was most honored. For dessert, I had made modifications on a recipe I had known in the old country, and it was new to the hostess and host who had a distinguished guest plantation owner staying over the weekend for whom I fixed that dessert. They thought the dessert was delicious.

The visiting gentleman wanted to see the cook who had created the unusually delicious dessert, so for the first time ever, I was invited into the dining room. The visitor offered to buy me, but I was thrilled that my master refused to sell me with my children. After that, I seemed to have a little more standing with the big house.

The next day the master came to the kitchen and asked me if there was anything special I really would like. I had seen the beds in the big house, and told him I would like a bed like those in the big house. Those beds were a frame with ropes tied from the long ends, that was not hard, and the mattress was hay sewn in little batches into a big bag. He told me that could be granted, and so it was done. My bed was not very wide, but much more comfortable than the pile of straw on the floor that most slaves took for granted as their beds.

I taught my boy and girl to do the best they could at whatever they did, and to be respectful to every single person they met. As a result, to my joy, Master kept my son and daughter both to work in the big house when they became old enough to be trained in the right ways to present themselves, and how to do their assigned jobs. As they grew and were old enough to be married, I was honored when they found good local slaves to marry. They jumped the broom in our weekly service down by the creek on Sunday mornings. As each was married, they were given their own hut in which to start their own families. I was left alone in my hut, but could see them daily.

The very worst thing was that I had to wear all those stupid clothes in the steaming heat in the kitchen with the large open fireplace. There was no reason I had to sweat in all those long petticoats just because the mistress wore them and it was the fashion for most women to dress that way. Actually, the house slaves also had to wear them, but they did not have to tend an open fire. There was no way out of that, and it was a miracle I did not die of a heat stroke in the middle of the summer. I had to keep a wet rag around my neck to even think straight. When I was in my late forties, I got a terrible fever, and nothing seemed to keep it from going on. Actually, both my children and I became frightened when the fever kept going up despite the cold water they put on different parts of my body. It was a hot day when my daughter found me almost out of my mind. She went to the big house to get permission for my son to come to my bedside right away. They knew I had been getting worse, so they let him come. Both of my children were beside my bed when I lost consciousness and died.

As a slave, I presumed my life was about as good as most could be, except for the terrible heat and all those unnecessary clothes.

HOW THAT LIFE AFFECTED MY PRESENT LIFE

As far as wearing unnecessary clothes, I don’t do it unless I choose to wear something special or fashionable. In addition to the reaction to my life as a slave, my parents did not wear clothes between their bedroom and bath, which was about ten feet. I thought all children had been brought up the same way, accepting nudity as normal.

My first husband had been brought up with two older sisters, in a very straight-laced family, that would never think about not wearing clothes.

We had not been married long, when he came home quite unexpectedly, and I was doing the vacuuming in the nude. He was shocked and totally astounded! He finally got used to it. I trained my boys to accept the human body as natural, and they, my present husband, and I, are not shocked when we accidently see each other without clothes. We all keep in mind that many others are not brought up to feel the same way. Many others make a deal about modesty. We try not to make others uncomfortable.

I WAS A CARELESS INDENTURED SERVANT.

It must be spotless, Girl. I will not tolerate one single thing out of its place. Obviously, you had no training at all and cannot see dirt, or else you just do not care. If I had known you would turn out to be so lazy, I would not have paid your passage over. I see no gratitude in what I did for you. You must do your best to be thorough at all times. You do know, because you signed the agreement, that as an indentured servant, you are to do exactly as you are told, and I am tired of reminding you to be thorough when cleaning. Your sloppy ways are simply not acceptable! Get to it immediately!

HOW THAT LIFE AFFECTED MY PRESENT LIFE

Twice, I Saw the Actual House on the Hill.

On the bus, as our eighth grade class was going on a trip in the North Carolina mountains, I suddenly turned to my seat mate and said, Oh, my Gosh, Marietta! I don’t have the slightest idea where we are, but I absolutely know that when we round the next curve in the road, there will be a very old and large brick house on a hill on the left side. I know the floor plan of that house because I was an indentured servant who lived there.

We both gasped as the bus rounded the curve, and there on a hill on the left stood the big and very old brick house, just as I had described. We stared at each other and both wondered how I had known what was ahead.

A number of years later, going to Greensboro, N.C. from St. Louis, Missouri, I turned to my then husband and said, I have no idea where we are, but when we round the next curve, on the right, there will be a very old brick house up on a hill. It was the same house.

HOW THAT LIFE AFFECTED THE

WAY I CLEAN THINGS

Janet, why are you using a wet Q-tip to clean the corner of the kitchen floor? I never saw anybody go to that extreme before. remarked my mother, when I was a teen-ager. You asked me to clean the floor, didn’t you? Well, I don’t know any other way to get sand out of the corners. You want me to do it correctly, don’t you? I guess I try to be thorough when I do cleaning. Remember, my father always says, ‘If you don’t do it nice, you will have to do it twice.’

I cannot stand a mess. I try to keep things neat and in order. I do not like to live with any kind of dirt. I have to try to be reasonable and live a normal life, but I find I will get up and change a situation if I notice it is not being kept properly. When the problem is fixed, I feel more comfortable.

MY BELIEF IN PAST LIVES

I BELIEVE THAT SOULS CAN CHOOSE TO REINCARNATE AS A HUMAN, but as nothing else.

I believe they might do so to try to grow spiritually, which is the reason I chose to come back in some cases, especially in the case where I needed to learn to have compassion. It is obvious to me that some of the lessons I learned really did affect the way I have lived during this lifetime. In some cases, souls might choose to return to help others learn needed lessons.

There is now nothing about a soul re-incarnating in the present Bibles. Somewhere in the Bible, there is a passage declaring that one cannot add to the Bible. I have been told that in the past, re-incarnation had been in a previous Bible, but a pope had that material removed, saying that if people thought they had a second chance, they would not do their best to be as good as possible in the life they were living. I have tried to get information about that: which pope and what it said. If any reader can help me, I will be most grateful.

After reading the chapter about my eight past lives, the reader can understand why I believe as I do.

HOW THESE PAST LIFE REGRESSIONS

WERE DONE UNDER HYPNOSIS IN 1993

The certified hypnotist was a fellow social worker, Mr. Dailey. He reserved a private room at a local restaurant in Kalamazoo, Michigan, (which was the year before I retired there as a psychiatric social worker.) There were ten of us who had signed up for the day. Each took our mat, on which we reclined for the regressions. After four sessions in the morning, we had lunch in that private room, then resumed for four more regressions that afternoon.

After "coming out of’ each regression, we took notes on the pad placed beside us. Then, Mr. Dailey offered us the opportunity to record our experiences, which he later typed and gave us the typed experiences.

I have positively experienced hypnosis a number of times during my lifetime. For me, being under past life hypnosis is like being in real life, with all the surrounding sights, sounds and smells. It is much like what one experiences while being in a vivid dream.

After each regression done in this chapter, I wrote what I later realized as the significance of each lifetime, noting how each life taught me lessons that carried over into this present life. The ways and extent these changes manifest from previous lifetimes into this life, have been, sometimes, to an ECCENTRIC extreme, even to the point of being funny to the observer.

In Chapter 20, Leesburg, Florida, there is a section about how I was helped by hypnosis on four occasions. In the chapter on Greensboro, there is an explanation about my introduction to hypnosis at age 12.

A close up of a mouse Description generated with very high confidence

VERIFIED HISTORICAL FACTS

PROTECTING THE SMOKEHOUSE

In 1861, the Civil War was going on. At the Davis plantation, in Isle of Wight County, near Smithfield, Virginia, three year old, little James Davis was awakened from his afternoon nap when a Yankee soldier shot through the window over his crib, and the glass fell into his bed.

At that time, Thomas Davis, the father of little James, along with the other men of the large peanut plantation, including all the male slaves, were away at war. James’s mother was left to manage the farm, be responsible for all the women and children, and tried to keep things going the best she could while the men were gone fighting.

A posse of Yankee privates was out on a scavenging party to get supplies for their army unit. They were particularly looking for food. They located the large family smokehouse, which was full of all the preserved meat to feed all the people on the plantation for the coming winter. As it so happened, a low fence connected the smokehouse to another building, and a pig pen was between the buildings. A heavy rain had just stopped.

Through a window, Mrs. Davis saw a private dismount and approach the smokehouse. She knew exactly what he intended to do. In desperation, the short, small woman put on full speed and beat him to the door. She stood defiantly and fiercely, with her hands on her hips, challenging him not to dare try to go in. He promptly ignored her. As the soldier reached her, with all her adrenalin flowing, and all the determination of a woman protecting her brood, she, somehow, got hold of him, and, miraculously, she managed to twist and toss him over the low fence into the pigpen. Right then, the sergeant, belatedly, rode up and saw his men reared back in their saddles just hootin and hollerin with laughter to see their buddy sitting in a big mud puddle surrounded by snorting pigs. The sergeant, fortunately, saw the humor of the situation. He dismounted and slightly bowed to Mrs. Davis. Madam, for a woman of your courage, we will not take more from your smokehouse than just what these men need for tonight’s supper. You are, indeed, a brave southern lady, and I respect you.

With that, he had one of his men take only enough for their evening meal. All the rest of the meat in the smokehouse was saved for the winter.

My father, Herman Davis, got the story from his grandfather, Thomas, and his grandmother, who was the one who protected the smokehouse. He also heard the story from his father, James.

MY INSPIRATION

I believe the fierce, defiant, responsible, determined, and courageous character of my great grandmother, in the face of overwhelming odds, was so respected and admired by the family that they passed this story down as an example of what they hoped would prove to be the qualities of the future women in their family. Upon my hearing this story from her grandson, my father, was proof to me that these qualities were truly present, and hopefully, would be an example, and quite possibly be passed down genetically.

Knowing what happened has definitely made me want to be like that lady and to do what I can to achieve and prove those qualities within my lifetime, and to pass them down to future generations. I believe I have achieved that hope, and that I have proven it through my way of coping, leading, and psychologically surviving some tough situations.

PROBABLY, THE FIRST PUBLIC

SCHOOL TRANSPORTATION SYSTEM

IN THE UNITED STATES

Carlton School was in Isle of Wight County, Virginia, near Smithfield, and in the Tidewater area near the coast, not too far from Norfolk.

For years, each family had been responsible for getting their children to and from school every school day.

Naturally, there were many days when something prevented some of the families from making the trip twice a day, so if the children could not get there in the mornings, the afternoons were considered too late. If the children were already at school, unexpected circumstances back at their homes sometimes caused extreme difficulties in getting children home.

There were no telephones by which one could seek help from a neighbor. The quickest way to spread information was by horse and rider. The teachers reported problems with extreme absenteeism. They could never know how many children would be attending each day, and, therefore, how many children would need help in catching up.

We just have to find a way to get all our children to school on a regular basis! declared Mary Edvina Pitt Davis, to her husband, Jim. I shall get from the school the names of all the families who have children in Carlton School and their addresses. Then I will send out requests to the fathers who have children attending there. I shall ask the men to meet in our parlor two weeks from Sunday afternoon at three o’clock.

To send word to all the fathers of children in that school about the problem and request that the fathers attend the meeting had to be done either by someone traveling to each home and speaking the message OR she might have written one note for a servant to carry and let the men just read it while telling them, OR, she possibly could have written a note for each to keep.

If she wrote anything, it would have been with a quill pen dipped in ink and carefully blotted.

Some way word went out, and, surprisingly, all the plantation and farm owners in the surrounding countryside arrived at White Marsh Farm by three on the designated Sunday afternoon. They filled the Davis’ parlor.

The fathers all agreed with her determination to solve the problem. It was 1903, and little three year old Herman Hugh Davis, my father, sat through the transportation meeting, and was able to make this report to me when I was about ten years old. He witnessed his mother taking charge of the meeting of men she had called.

All attending fathers participated in working out which routes would be developed, and which farmers would be responsible for their route as Route Manager.