As everyone knows by now, I have done a lot of ranting and raving, praising the psychic powers of the Mexican people in general. Over the years, I have gathered a wealth of personal accounts from people telling me of their experiences. Also, I have frequently told people about my investigations of the Mexican priest-saint, Toribio Romo. I, too, have had my share of such experiences.
Naturally, many people may want to point out that the Mexican people are generally uneducated, composed of country peasantry, and superstitious.
What I have not told anyone yet is that the professional associations of my life were not with Mexican people (other than my immigrant students), but with highly educated American professionals. I was a high school teacher for thirty years. Although Americans like to "play it safe," pretending to be "scientific," many of them, if they are sure they won't be mocked or belittled, can also come up with some incredibly fascinating information. Actual studies show that from 38 to 40 percent of Americans have openly admitted contact with ghosts and the like. Because of so many Americans' fear of being offended or deemed insane, it is thought that the percentage is much higher.
I'm going to describe briefly three of my favorite stories given to me by credible American people. I have many more.
The first was told to me by a teacher named Vivian Holmes. She had also once been a gradeschool principal in our district. She said that one night she heard someone knocking at her front door. She answered the door and saw her father standing at the threshold. He just looked at her for a moment, turned around, and walked back into the darkness. A few minutes later, she got a phone call from a sibling that her father had just passed away. I want to add that her father did not live in California.
Another teacher in our district, whose name I no longer remember, told me that one night, he and his girlfriend were driving along a sandy stretch of isolated road in the California High Desert. The car got bogged down in the sand. Realizing that no one would be driving on that road so late at night, they decided to just lean the front seats back and go to sleep. Suddenly, they were awakened by the tinkling of cowbells, the lowing of cattle, and human voices. They noted that all these sounds and lamplights were issuing forth from a nearby sand dune.
The next day, a passerby found them and sent a tow truck to pull them out of the sand. They told the towtruck operator what they had seen and heard. He told them that people traveling on that lonely stretch of road at night had often heard those sounds and seen those lights. He told them that in the old pioneer days, a wicked sandstorm had suffocated a group of people, including their animals at that site.
My third and last account was told to me by the well-known Arizona artist, Jack Andrews. He has his own website. I hope he doesn't mind my telling his story, for he, too, does not like to be offended and mocked by skeptics.
Jack lives near Tucson, Arizona, at the entrance of the beautiful Organ Pipe National Park. He told me that the ghost of an Indian appeared in his home one night, even standing still while he painted it. He showed me the picture.
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