My 50-Year Love Affair With the Tarots
Through all our arguments, my doubts, casual flings, and blatant infidelities, she’s always welcomed me back.
First, let me tell you about Clarence Felter.
Clarence was in his 70’s when I became his pupil. That was over 50 years ago. He lived alone, except for his dog, whose name I don’t remember, and in a shack that leaned in a number of directions, depending on where you were sitting when you viewed it.
He never let anyone in his house. One of us speculated it was because he’d killed his wife, cut her into manageable packages and stuffed her in his freezer.
I don’t think he even owned a freezer.
I’m estimating six of us visited Clarence regularly. The oldest of us was probably 25. We all worked as counselors in a home for emotionally disturbed children, called Brown School. Because we worked rotation on one of the three shifts, around-the-clock, it was rare that more than a couple would visit Clarence at the same time.
Usually, I went alone.
From the street, you couldn’t see his shack. You had to climb over, under, and through brambles and vines along the little path that led to his dirt-and-weed visiting area. One of us was always getting slashed by…
