Memories of my grandfather a spiritualist healer
I have few memories of my grandfather. He was a little, quiet man who trundled along in the wake of my large, perm-haired Nanny. She was big, jolly and assertive. He was small, thin and seemed to melt into the background.
They always reminded me of those old seaside postcard cartoons of the jolly fat lady with the miserable weedy husband. He had a big nose that my mum passed down to me. He was also very good with his hands. I can remember him working on this old circus ride horse that he’d made into a rocking horse. He repaired it, sorted a tail from old string and put in eyes. Then he painted it. I was well impressed.
My mother told me stories about séances she had witnessed when living at home. She said that a tambourine and trumpet, that resided on hooks on the wall, would play and fly into the air. That she’s seen ectoplasm formed out of thin air and heard voices and tales from the ‘other side’.
I remained cynical. All I had ever seen was my granddad putting on silly voices. He seemed like a prize charlatan to me. But then I was only fourteen when I last saw him. I found him embarrassing.
My father wanted nothing to do with it all. My mother had persuaded him to go along to a séance when they were courting after the war. He’d taken along a hat-badge of a good friend of his who was in submarines and reported missing in action. My granddad went into a trance and gave him a string of numbers which he wrote down. They worked out that they were coordinates and sent off to the War Ministry. They replied by asking where they had got this classified information. The coordinates were within fifty miles of the submarines last known location. It had scared my father.
Now I do not know how true that was or how embellished a story. All I know is that my father refused to talk about it.
My granddad also used to recite books. He would go into a trance and talk. This was taken down in short-hand and later typed up.
Edgar Wallace wrote a number of books through him. My mother told me that they were real and had been authenticated as being in Edgar Wallace’s style.
I don’t know. I never got the chance to read them.
When my Nanny died all the writing, books and a whole load of other material was taken out into the back garden and burnt in one big bonfire. Oh what I’d give to get a look at that stuff now.
Why did my mum do that?
Regardless of anything, and I still remain a skeptic, it was quite a feat to dictate a book to someone. I’ve been writing for forty five years and I don’t think I could do it. My granddad was an uneducated meter reader.
All I have of his are a number of sheets of writing purporting to be a lesson from his American Indian guide – White Eagle.
I’ll dig them out and have a look again.
I still think he was a charlatan.
While you’re there, any chance of the Euro lottery numbers for the next draw?
5 7 13 17 21 30 – easy.
I think he sounded fascinating. What a terrible shame all that work burnt it is strange how people destroy treasures that at the time thought to be no good. I think of all the little treasures my Nana and Granddad had all gone. When my Mother died my sister hired a skip and got rid of all mummy’s things, I was not even consulted. I was so very upset (and still am) when I heard that Rod Mckuen’s manuscripts, so many of them were dumped after he died, this year, it is to me tragic as Rod kept everything. I tend to keep even the small notes I make, that sums me up.
It was tragic. I would love to have seen those books and writings.
I’m a hoarder and collector. When I’m gone I suggested that the family make a big pyre of my books, records, CDs and writing, put me on it and set fire to it. That seems appropriate.
NO NO don’t ever destroy your work, CDs or Vinyls (vinyls are “back” and expensive to buy now). Send it to schools etc so the kids can learn. I am going to bequeath my collection of Rod (Jonathan wants Rod’s Chest, it is so old but beautiful) to a University in the States he lectured at so many. “Opher” must go on.
We’ll see. Things rarely work out the way you plan do they? That’s life!
How right you are, you plan your life then someone comes along and messes it all up for you, but you have shown me I can make what is left work.
Too true! But I’ve always found that the more you put in the more you get out! Even if it wasn’t what you were expecting! You have to go for it.
I told you previously. since getting to know you how I feel so different, you have been such an influence on me a very bad one – Joking – you have made me feel so much better, made me want to do more as you say “go for it”.
Just as long as you show me your plans for SF and take that step. I can’t think that my stuff has that much influence.
Well you do and it does have influence. I have to apply for my Passport to be renewed did I tell you I thought it was in date, ran out this year. I am going to get in touch with Audley’s again in the States and tell them what I want.
Go for it girl!
Now there you are you are encouraging me and I AM LISTENING
Good! That’s the spirit!!
I have a little book that I was given at a difficult crossroad in my life. It helped me immensely. I still have it, and look at it from time to time. It was written by…..White Eagle.
I wish you had the stuff that burned. What an interesting man, your father….and your nanny.
They were certainly not your average grandparents but then is anyone?
I certainly would have liked to have see all that writing that was burnt. I don’t know why my mum burnt it. I think she was grief-stricken.
Isn’t that strange that you should have a book by White Eagle.
Fascinating and there is a lot we don’t know about how our minds work, consciousness so I am sure your grandfather knew something.such a pity we never get to really know about all this stuff when people are alive. Pity it was burned but …
Yes. It’s a shame it was all burnt and it was a shame I did not get to speak to him as an adult. I might have had a different perspective. He was an interesting guy. I’m sure we are only at the beginning of learning about consciousness and the mind. We’ll find out a lot more!
Reblogged this on Opher's World and commented:
Here’s my Grandfather.
I can only reiterate others’ comments – what a damn shame!
Yes it was. I don’t know why my mother chose to do that. I think she was in extreme grief.
We should never make decisions in a state of emotional turmoil. They are invariably poorly thought out and regretted later.
I’m not sure that she ever regretted it. I think she wanted to blot the past out. She was very close to her mother. Her death from a stroke hit her very hard indeed. But I really regretted it. I would love to have read all that stuff.
Well whatever he was you’ll never know for sure. What a travesty that they burnt all his writings. They would have been a real treasure!
He was probably a charlatan Cheryl. But yes – I’ll never know,
How fascinating. I believe this story, and the fact that your mother burned everything confirms any doubts. You know that. Why is it that we don’t appreciate all our grandparents did, and therefore don’t have their stories, until we are older and they are gone?
I wish I could go back and chat to them as an adult, ask them all the questions, find out more. We don’t do we as children? I’m glad I got to record my Mum’s tales before she died. She had an interesting life too.
You
Me?
That was my ooops… finger hit the reply button.
I see – never mind – it’s always good to hear from you.
Thanks!
Oops… I know what you mean. This seems to be a wish with most people. We just don’t see the importance until it is too late. I recorded my mother’s stories but not my grandmother’s.