How many of us reflect upon our childhood? I grew up in a rooming house run by my mother, and as I look back, I think that a lot of strange things happened in that rooming house. I have tinkered with the idea of writing a book about that rooming house: there was a tenant who worked ‘roots’ on my mom; there was a tenant who had to constantly put gauze in his mouth to soak up saliva because his dentist did something wrong, which left him with that life-long problem; another tenant,a single lady dated a man who was a mortician, who scared me to death whenever he came around: he looked like death. A man, who had lived in the room in house for years, died in his room with his eyed bugged out in fear. My mother said something had scared him to death. I could go on and on with specific stories about the tenants and their visitors and my mother’s visitors and family and life in the neighborhood. I can really cause you to sit up with stories about my mother’s psychic abilities and experiences. Maybe one day, I will share some specific stories with you, my fellow dear heart sisters and brothers.